“From one seed, a whole handful: that was what it meant to say the bounty of the earth”
these summer mornings at home have taken on a wonderful routine: walking barefooted through the dewy morning grass to the fig tree my dad planted a few years ago. Pushing aside the big velvety leaves, picking the plump purple figs off of their branches. Leaving a few behind for the birds and squirrels, savoring the rest for breakfast, for lunch, for dessert. Every bite brings me such joy: they taste like sunshine, patience, and home.