soul soil

I need to make at least one hard phone call today. The sun is hiding, and I am hopeful there will be a light moist drizzle of moisture throughout the day, so I plan soon to put on my wellies, and head outside to prune and finish a spring clean up of my beds. I turned over my biggest and oldest compost pile for the last time yesterday afternoon, and was almost giddy with the dark rich smell emanating from the pile.

L and I have a date to make at least one cold frame this weekend, and I have our 2008 personal books to close, and a tax return to start on this weekend.

And even as I list all of the above, my worst and my best are hard to put into words. I have a very ambivalent relationship with change, and as this time of unemployment and seeking for vocation starts to come to a close, I have an excitement about the change and also a sorrow. And that is probably all I can say about that for now.

Best might be that I made Greek yogurt yesterday, and it turned out yummy. During the process of heating the milk, then waiting for it to cool to add the live yogurt cultures, then waiting for it to ferment before I could drain the liquid out (currently saved in a quart canning jar in the fridge for baking), I was full of memories. Memories of a dear friend who used to make Greek yogurt in my kitchen as she cared for the three little boys of the house, memories of the many homes and communities I have lived in and loved over my adult life. These six years in Sojourn are the longest I have lived in one house since I was eighteen.

It takes time for roots to grow. First, the soil needs to be prepared. Proper nutrients organically and slowly incorporated into a barren soil in order to create a fertile place for roots to attach to the soil and gain nurture and life.

The blossoms, the fruit, all come from the life of the soil. I have spent a large part of my life trying to root in mixed soil, part toxic, with some viability scattered around. The last few years I have experienced how good life is when the soil in my soul is mostly fertile. That soul soil goes with me everywhere.

Today, as I make that call, and as I clean out my beds and delight over the earthworms and the deep richness of the fragrance rising from the dirt, I want to remember that my soul soil is, for the most part, fertile. I take that with me wherever I travel.

Comments

[wilsonian]

If we ever get to connect face to face, I would love to have you teach me to make Greek yogurt!