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Chilly, cloudy coastal morning, strap on chacos, leggings with shorts, tank top and hoodie. French press coffee in a burnt-orange thermos, water in an indigo nalgene. Tangled top bun and turn onto a long straight stretch of country road. Listen to the silence surrounding my crunchy footsteps, sip my beverage of choice and enjoy the simple beginning of my Thursdays…

Turn into the fragrant garden, meditative sounds of bamboo chimes calming the order sheets and packing shed activity. Mornings are for collecting herbs. Bunches of dewy mint, sorrel, chives, and arugula taking shape by the soft snip snip of simple scissors for co-op customers. Perched on upside-down pails, we meet and greet the morning, centered and conversational. No veggies, just herbs. By lunchtime, the warmth of the day has released fragrances that get on our fingers and our faces. You know who has walked by because of the aroma that trails behind them.

Lunchtime release finds us down the road, collected together in a round home. Flatbread, beans, homemade cheese and piles of arugula. Glasses of kombucha with ginger and conversations about growing calendars and newest batches of brew. Social chickens try to come through the open front door and we put up our feet.

Warmer afternoon finds beet pickers in the hoophouse and basil waiting to be collected. Cucumbers fill bins and parsley gets misted, overwhelming every other smell. There’s been a lot of comfort for me in embracing this newly structured routine. I haven’t worked outside my home in six months as my heart has been holding breath, waiting for this new life inside me to completely change my own. And oh, she has…

I don’t know how to write about such hard things. Maybe it’s still just too recent to write objectively about. We named our little one Haven, and we have thanked her (or him?) for being such a catalyst for change in our lives during these quickened three months… How can you miss someone so deeply whom you never met? And how can I express enough gratitude for a husband who held my body so tightly as we passed through the darkest places we’ve ever known during this decade in each other’s lives? I am so grateful. And I know that God is good. He is always good. The day after our miscarriage, Joel expressed the desire to allow this pain to release only more beauty in the both of us. To make us more soft. I want that so much and I have held on to my Beloved’s words as we both stumble our way back to this new normal.Image

This is kind of a silly picture to put in my blog; I don’t know her, and I didn’t take it. But I feel a lot like this these days; I feel surrounded, and I feel safe. Grace has surely been a safe haven for me these lengthening days…

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