Discovering the season’s first peas in the garden this morning, my little daughter was jubilant. She picked pink zinnias, admired the emerald potato plants, and noted with a slight unease garlic scape pesto will soon appear on our table. O joy!
A remnant from our Waldorf schooling days:
The silver rain, the golden sun.
The fields where scarlet poppies run.
And all the ripples of the wheat
are in the food that I do eat.
So when I sit for every meal
and say grace I always feel
that I am eating rain and sun
and fields where scarlet poppies run.