Spring Bee Hiving Moon
In these months, when I go to bed, the full moon shines in our bedroom window. It keeps me awake sometimes, gazing at it, feeling it, absorbing the ancient wisdom it offers. All those prayers and hopes and wishes flung its way over the millennia.
The last two nights the full bee hiving moon has lit up the magnolia. Its white blossoms have begun to droop and fall away but in the glow of the moon its fire blazes up again, a quiet torch illuminating the dark.
It’s cherry blossom time too. One of our cherries blossomed yesterday afternoon,
Kate has been pruning, weeding, clearing away debris as I visited the eye doc, did tours and today worked on Latin. She’s a full gardener now with her own expertise tied to her energy, her wonderful work. She gets a lot done. A lot. And always comes inside with a sense of having left it all in the orchard or the vegetable garden or among the perennials.
Meanwhile I’ve kept glaucoma in check, showed objects related to communication and swept through 14 verses of Metamorphoses, Book III. Work in its way, of course, but I can’t say I prosecute it with the same vigor as Kate. She’s a force of nature, out in nature.
Mickman’s comes on Monday to start up our irrigation system. We need the water to support the veggies that we plant. Especially in this drought. On Wednesday when I went to the eye doc I stopped by Mother Earth Gardens, across from the Riverview Theatre.
We now have four six packs of leeks, one of shallots, one of green onions and pots of rosemary, cilantro and basil. The last couple of years I’ve started these myself, but not this year. They won’t go in the ground until Sunday or Monday, so they can get watered right from the start.
Lots of tasks now: clean the air conditioner, clean out the bee hives, install our new fire pit, cut down a few trees that impinge on other activities. Some of them involve the chainsaw, so I’m happy.