As I exercised, I was reminded of some writing I did from my terrace as I overlooked the pond. Digging in my writing archives, I found it just now, just before my clean bill of health from cancer--- 
May 2, 2002 -
May 2, 2002 - "Love this new view-and feel at peace sitting here, Abby at my feet, a candle burning…outside here in the fresh air with the laptop..the crickets. No wonder I feel suffocated in the office and unable to think. Every morning I watch the ducks come from their nests at the foot of the deck, while I have my coffee or hug the dogs…sometimes with mates or several mates and now with their babies in toe. Some are still mating with babies to come later. I laugh as I watch them mate. Wings flapping and quacking. Life is blossoming here…and I’m reminded that even though my life has changed drastically-the seasons will come and go..the ducks will mate and bare their young..and life will keep going. Watched a mother duck teaching her ducklings to swim late yesterday afternoon. They all waddled in unison behind mommy…watching with their new eyes…waddling. Abby and Bebe wanted to join in the swim and almost pulled me in too…with all their excitement. I love nature… (Photo: A view from my balcony at 6136 Lenox Park Blvd -where I lived from April 2002 through May 2005.)
Remember the time when I entered a state wide drawing contest at the age of 10…for the state conservation department—I was chosen to have my picture in the calendar that year. Springtime. My drawing was of a duck diving underwater and catching a fish. My young hand caught the detail above the surface and then below…wings flapping…duck grabbing the fish. I’ll never forget how inspired I felt….that is deep in me somewhere…and I haven’t used it since. That was thrown away a long time ago, with the laughter, the running/jumping, cart wheels and red hair ribbons.
I remember watching my Grandpa Palpant in the very early days of the spring every year (and now I know this is reflected in the majority of households throughout France) nourish and cultivate the tiny seeds he dried from the harvest the summer before. He built a makeshift greenhouse from his own design and using the energy from the sun, began the early growth of the plants that would later be put in the much larger gardens that he developed. When the ground was warm and rotatilling could begin, the transfer and much larger planting would take place. I’d follow behind his path..the overturned earth…cool and sinking between my toes..running barefoot behind him….full of curiosity and the smell of the fresh earth. I remember being so young that I couldn’t even count..and he would place the correct number of seeds in my hand as I waddled along the trench he dug to plant the beans, peas, corn, and every vegetable imaginable! We had rhubarb, strawberries, raspberries, peaches, apples, currants, blueberries, sunflowers, corn, every squash, eggplant and zucchini imaginable. He even built arbors for grapes and would press them. As an adult I sit on my deck in Atlanta and realize how truly blessed I was as a child. My grandfather..showing me the cycle of life and its fruits. Showing me what life could be. At the time I thought every child had this and in my attempt to be “grown up” and sophisticated threw it all away. It is only now that I realize my life and the core of who I am is in all of that. My grandfather was living the only way he knew how to live and a way that nourished him. I laugh now, to think what those Yankee people thought of my olive-skinned, bushel-carrying, broken English grandfather….whistling amongst his plants. When I was in France last year…I saw this reflected in every relative and amongst the villagers. Everyone with their garden, their space, to watch the process and flow of life…and to do much more than nourish the appetite, …but also nourish their soul. There is something to be said for that!"
Remember the time when I entered a state wide drawing contest at the age of 10…for the state conservation department—I was chosen to have my picture in the calendar that year. Springtime. My drawing was of a duck diving underwater and catching a fish. My young hand caught the detail above the surface and then below…wings flapping…duck grabbing the fish. I’ll never forget how inspired I felt….that is deep in me somewhere…and I haven’t used it since. That was thrown away a long time ago, with the laughter, the running/jumping, cart wheels and red hair ribbons.
I remember watching my Grandpa Palpant in the very early days of the spring every year (and now I know this is reflected in the majority of households throughout France) nourish and cultivate the tiny seeds he dried from the harvest the summer before. He built a makeshift greenhouse from his own design and using the energy from the sun, began the early growth of the plants that would later be put in the much larger gardens that he developed. When the ground was warm and rotatilling could begin, the transfer and much larger planting would take place. I’d follow behind his path..the overturned earth…cool and sinking between my toes..running barefoot behind him….full of curiosity and the smell of the fresh earth. I remember being so young that I couldn’t even count..and he would place the correct number of seeds in my hand as I waddled along the trench he dug to plant the beans, peas, corn, and every vegetable imaginable! We had rhubarb, strawberries, raspberries, peaches, apples, currants, blueberries, sunflowers, corn, every squash, eggplant and zucchini imaginable. He even built arbors for grapes and would press them. As an adult I sit on my deck in Atlanta and realize how truly blessed I was as a child. My grandfather..showing me the cycle of life and its fruits. Showing me what life could be. At the time I thought every child had this and in my attempt to be “grown up” and sophisticated threw it all away. It is only now that I realize my life and the core of who I am is in all of that. My grandfather was living the only way he knew how to live and a way that nourished him. I laugh now, to think what those Yankee people thought of my olive-skinned, bushel-carrying, broken English grandfather….whistling amongst his plants. When I was in France last year…I saw this reflected in every relative and amongst the villagers. Everyone with their garden, their space, to watch the process and flow of life…and to do much more than nourish the appetite, …but also nourish their soul. There is something to be said for that!"
(Photo: A view of my office window at Harbinger where I worked from March 2000 through June 2002 - overlooking the pond at Lenox Park.)
I feel so blessed toda
y as I walk through the garden and consider how my life has changed. Never would I have imagined that I would live to see Spring 2007 in such a beautiful form. Life has an odd way of moving forward and enchanting us with the possibilities. As I exercised, I pondered the amazing things in my life that I never dreamed possible -- a passion for my work and a cause that moves my soul, friendships that go beyond the ordinary, and a life that so few will ever realize since the vast majority of people in this world live in poverty and subjected to harsh conditions. I find myself unable to squelch my excitement over the prospect of Spring and the fresh/newness of life it offers. I feel free.
