A poem for The Food Forest: Spring 2023

Air season. Intellect, planning, executing with the fire of the sun. Warming us to work with the land. All is buzzing and moving.. and voicing, and rejoicing. Burn away the old.. make room for the babies. The ones we must tend. The ones we will groom for harvest. And we will feed ourselves. It’s revolutionary. Intention begets receiving. Sowing and reaping. Gardening is like playing with the universe. Empty space is fluid. Aether. Air. Wind. Metal. Gemini. Thinking, rationalizing, analyzing. On bees wings, fluid space that feels like air, whooshes over the rainbow stain glass mirror complex we call a wing, and swirled the smoke of my incense. It helps me see the movement. An outward visible movement cause by the invisible force. Air. Aer. Aether. 

-Leslie Walker

Burning Old Leaves

Today I’m outside having a full moon fire. Burning out some old brush in a pile of wood waiting from when we took the greenhouse down. It’s a good time to burn it. It was nice and cool this morning. I even wore Mamaw‘s jacket. I’m burning my last piece for the day.

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