Summer Moon of the First Harvests
One with the land. A cliche perhaps, though little used today. I hope it has again some of 
the powerful connotation it had long ago.
On a fine cool morning like this one, not even really cool, 68, to step outside with tools in hand, tools for working with plants, and feel the morning air surround you, to see the plants green and the flowers vibrant, to step into the vegetable garden and see tomato blossoms, fruit, eggplant fruit, cucumbers vining up the bamboo, the carrot’s feathery leaves, the brave leeks tall and proud and to know, know in the biblical sense, that is, to have direct sensory knowledge unmediated by book or story, but present and available, that you and those plants share the workload. To know further that the bees buzzing and dipping into the flowers are likewise colleagues, not just insects, but partners. Yes, I know it’s overwritten, sorry about that, but it hits the feeling tone I want to convey. Over the top. Not overwhelming, maybe, but certainly whelming. Intimate. Holistic.
It’s a feeling, come to think of it, or come to feel it might be better, that synchs up with the mystical moment I had back long ago in college. I’ve written about it here before so just a synopsis. After a philosophy class I experienced a sudden moment of integration with the whole, with everything, with the cosmic. I was in it and of it, as it was in me and of me. This feeling I have, this oneness with this land, this particular place, is a discrete yet parallel feeling. I am in this land and of it, as it is in me and of me.
