Noticeably longer days are not translating into fewer layers of clothes. Maybe it is all the wet that has swooped in from Alaska for the last two weeks. It is very possible that watching the tomatoes grow in my kitchen window have me anxious for days that are too hot for lettuce but perfect for tomatoes. I wonder how tomatoes and lettuce ever came together as salad? Maybe my frustration comes from reading the blogs of cyber friends in Texas and California where it is already high-garden season. Perhaps their pictures and words have me off my balance when it comes to the seasonal rhythm of life. Just before the sky pinked up with first light I looked at the outside temperature. It had been steady at 41 degrees for most of the night. At first light it dropped to 38 degrees. It is still early in the PNW.
Honey colored light found its way into my room and has me itching to get outside. I want to drive out to the river and look for mushrooms to go with all those herbs in the garden. It's time. I didn't gather any fiddle heads this year. I don't want to let the mushrooms escape me. Ray is hungry for razor clams but the season and his time off are not coming together. It isn't our time that is important. The Creator gives gifts of time and I get greedy for the best of it. I think of the martyrs under the alter in the Revelation. Even they want to know, "how long?" No chastisement is given for their anxious question. They receive white robes and encouragement to rest a while longer. Soon enough the days of chores will come. It isn't just about tomatoes in warm summer soil. The gypsy life of kitchen window to patio table and back will have to do for now. That and the song of the sparrow bragging outside the window. What does a sparrow have to brag about? Maybe it is that he and she can trade time just sitting on eggs instead of feeding hungry babies. Rest is good.