Once a week I work at Point Reyes Flowers. I started working at this farm because I was so aware that I needed a natural space to report to weekly. It's the place I go to in order to receive grounding and to clear my head. Within the rows of flowers I process through the anxiety I carry on the world. Out there it becomes just about the immediate needs of the plants. Weeding, watering, feeding, observing. Each week I learn something new. Sometimes it's the scientific name of a plant, or how a tedious hand task can teach me how to be patient and mothering again and again. I learn how to slow my gait, because there is no need to run around the garden. Working with flowers brightens my spirit even as I watch their blooms wilt or when I am instructed to pull a patch that has moved through its life span.
On Saturday I was filled again and again by watching how other people interacted with our booth. Flowers for homes, flowers for lovers, flowers for a bride, flowers just for the moment. A pause in our policies, a pause in our collective pain. For all of our stumbling and uncertainty, the natural world awaits our return.