This morning I picked popcorn.
I wore my gloves but realized I needed none because it was a perfectly beautiful morning to pick popcorn.
A perfect fall morning to be outside on the farm, with my animals who need no invitation.
And it is the same last year, as it is today. The same rituals of picking and pulling and shucking and dirty hands and sun gleaming into my eyes as I reach for another apple.
And in this practice I find hope – hope of knowing that while everything around changes, and so much is out of our hands; empty hands that we look into and frantically search to fill with anything that will offer temporary distraction – that in this this fall garden, it is the same.
I can rely on a farm pup to follow me around, stay at my side… a farm Kitty to spur me out of thought when he leaps from hiding, making my heart race and lips smile.
And so it is, while I don’t know much about tomorrow…
…today, I will pick popcorn.