Saturday Breakfast

I had breakfast in the garden this morning. I mean this more literally than in the usual sense, as it

wasn't a matter of me carrying around a cup of coffee and a slice of toast as I sat at a patio table and enjoyed the morning. The raspberries are at last in full bearing mode, cherry and pear tomatoes are ripening, the herb containers on the deck are fragrant, and the first green and yellow peppers are ripe. It's not like my wife and I are prodigious vegetable gardeners; we actually lean more toward the ornament side in our gardening tastes, but we do grow enough edibles to offer enough for two middle-aged folks during the growing season.  This morning's breakfast was a matter of literally plucking the food from the canes, stalks, and vines and munching them whole while wandering around the early morning garden. 

One of those cool midsummer spells have hit Minneapolis after a couple of weeks of heat and humidity. The temperature this morning was in the high 40s, though the early morning sun brought it up to around 60 by the time I finished breakfast. In addition to the food available to eat, there is nourishment for the eyes,  too, as mid July is also the lushest time of year for ornamental plants. The daylilies are in full bloom, their warm colors complemented by an occasional balloon flower, laitris, or tradescandia.

Over the course of two hours, I felt some of the tension from the week drain away into the earth; gardens for me are literally grounding, soaking up

the static artificial energy created by the modern workplace. Over the course of six weeks, I have five out of town trips scheduled and time in the garden or walking in the woods or at an arboretum, is critical to my well-being.

This morning, anyway, that sense of well-being is profound indeed.