Basket Desire

While i was at the food co-op, i bought a beautiful basket from Ghana. My rationale was that i need another harvest basket. Sometimes, my regular harvest basket is too small. Well, this basket is even smaller. Don't ask how this makes sense to me. Maybe it's just that this new basket is pretty.

Desire. I see something pleasant. Very pleasant. It sort of coincides with a previous desire for another harvest basket. This one doesn't fill the bill. I already have a too-small harvest basket for occasional use.

Desire deludes me into thinking / feeling I need that.

Here i am, trying to prune down my possessions, yet another new thing sneaks into the house under the guise of being beautiful and sort of what i was looking for (but not quite).

Desire. It feels so delicious. But then, second thoughts are so stressful.

Flower Basket Day

It's Flower Basket Day, a holiday i've never heard of. Cynically, i might say it's a holiday dreamed up by florists and purveyors of greeting cards. Open-heartedly, i might say it's a good reminder to give flowers to someone who isn't expecting them. Today, and every day, is a good day to be unexpectedly generous.

Though flowers are sparse here in the North Country, i might give a houseplant to someone. Or maybe a little vase of cuttings from my houseplants so that i can locavore this holiday instead of having flowers flown in from southern countries. By using local plants (from my windowsill), i can be generous to the Earth.

Walk to the Garden

I walk to the garden

To harvest vegetables.

I return with a full basket,

Empty-handed.

My Harvest Basket is Gone

In the summer, i keep my harvest basket near the front door. While harvest season isn't over exactly--kale, chard, and bok choy are still growing happily--it's time for my harvest basket to go south for the winter, into the basement, and be replaced with a basket of slippers for visitors to my home.

The summer harvest is over. Done (whether or not it got "done.") Gone.

We could just spend the rest of the day noticing "Gone."
Noticing everything that changes (which is everything).
Reading this blog. Gone.
Moving the mouse. Gone.
Pushing keys on the keyboard. Gone.
The blink of an eye, and for a split-second, sight is gone.
Breath. Gone.
Heartbeat. Gone.
Saliva swallowed. Gone.

Go on. Notice "gone."