Planting things

I wrote a very eloquent piece yesterday from home and, when I went to send it, found that my computer had disconnected itself from the internet. The eloquence dissolved. So it goes. So it went.

This is the planter in front of my shop. Put together by Annie, my sweetie, it is a fresh, bright greeting. A promise of things to come, things that are growing, things that are good.

This morning I had a visit from Susan Shillcock's kindergarten, first, and second grade class. They brought spinach and collards from their school garden. Together we washed and prepared the spinach. Our chef cooked it up and the children made spinach tarts, simple things with puffed pastry, grated cheese, and a little egg wash. While the tarts cooked I showed them some snaps from my ride and let them check out my helmet and my rearview mirror and my padded gloves.

Then the tarts were cooked. Just like that.

A buffet! Collards, spinach tarts, and little Elsie's Biscuits with some of Sweet Betty's Bees honey.

I'm coming back more and more. Today helped. Having a pot of spring lovelies in front of my shop helps. And last night I had dinner with the PR director for the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance and her family. Just 7 months ago I was having dinner with her, sharing my nervousness about my venture. Now I'm done, telling her about it.

The children gave me a jar filled with coins and dollars. They had collected it for me, for the bike ride. $37.00 more for the cause. This kind of thing fills me right up. I sat on the floor, surrounded by the children and surrounded by love and filled with trust and hope.

There have been times when I have looked for someone else to tell me that things will be alright. No one can ever do that for me. They've tried. I've looked, wished for it, tried to believe in their words. It has not worked.

But now, slowly, I feel, from deep inside me, that things ARE alright and WILL continue to be just fine. I have big dreams of things. Don't worry. The biggest dream at the moment is about turning this experience into a book. I dream about making a life that is filled with love and adventure and thought. And then I remember - I already have that. But sometimes I forget.

Flowers help me remember. And children. And bees. And work. And my bicycle.

Thanks for reading I'll be in touch.

Laurey