The fruiting season

In the Spring, the world is green again.
The soul stirs as tiny buds begin to open.
The trees burst forth in multi colored regalia:
split pea green,
bright cherry red,
cauliflower white.
The fruiting season has begun.

In the Spring, we walk.
Relieved to be outside,
soaking in the sunshine,
reveling in the wide open spaces,
we look for any excuse to meander
down the dandelion lined sidewalk.

I watch our shadows as we walk
stretched like the long warm days.
I study the shadow-mother, wondering:
Is she as exhausted as I feel?
Or are her worries as weightless
as her form?
Her curves are exaggerated,
the bow of her lower back deepened
counterbalanced by the bundle
now strapped to her chest.

In the Spring, everything grows and multiplies.
I study the extra shadow accompanying our walks
the extra set of limbs that expands my edges.
The delicate scent of pear blossoms
The musky molting earth
The jelly-bean colored flowers’
-raspberry, lemon, blueberry-
sweet scents fill my nostrils
and dance with wisps of blonde
belligerently blowing across my eyes.
The fruiting season has begun.




We took a walk today because we both needed it.

We went truck-spotting around our neighborhood. He held my hand the whole way.


We walked slowly and chose our path as we went.  I breathed in the crisp autumn air and let my worries float away on the wind.  I felt the warmth of the sun on my face and felt the sturdy trust of his hand in mine.

As we prepare for battle it is important to focus on the peaceful place of stillness we hold inside, the place of love that will bring us home.

This past season has been one of testing- testing my faith, testing my patience, testing my trust.  With only a few go before we welcome baby boy #2 into this world, I cherished this quiet walk with my firstborn.  I hung on his every word as he told me how rain drops came to be on the fallen leaves along the sidewalk, how good the the breeze felt, when he explained how the bulldozer and backhoe worked, how the bushes tickled his hand as he walked past.  I tucked away the memories of him tasting the rain water, jumping with his shadow, and the way he jumped and the big grin that appeared on his face when the “big semi truck” honked at him after he waved at it.




On the way home he turned to me and silently asked me to carry him by raising his arms up to me.  And I did, even though it was hard, even though I’m very pregnant and it got hot and the sciatic pain my right leg and hip began to act up.  I carried him all the way home with his head resting on my shoulder and his eyes half closed as if he knew that this was just what I needed- to hold him and breathe him in and feel him relax against me as if I was his only tether to this world.