Slicing rosehips and scooping seeds and hairs out after this bright salt air August day when our bodies found welcome and stillness among the sharp thorns of the Rugosa Rose.
Speaking dreams of gardens, community buildings, an experimental homesteading school seeking deep contact with the rhythms of the earth. With the boldness to save seeds and collude with others who do. To bring our life forth with sweat and joy from this earth, and welcome others to learn with us and celebrate this life.
The apricot, its leaves rustling in a desert breeze. The fields of barley and clunking tractors and men and women with scythes sweeping. The dzo upon the slopes, grazing and shaggy and dropping fuel out their behinds.
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