Do you ever dream about healing plants or foods that upon waking you realize you want in your life?
A decade ago, after a clear dream featuring something called a wolfberry I researched the Lycium barbarum Goji berry and wrote it into the draft of a story *. Despite their diminutive size these vibrant berries and leaves are packed with antioxidants, and apparently, we were destined to benefit. A great bare root goji bush was gifted to us and traveled east all the way from Utah (thank you Nick)! His vines were so prolific and sturdy that they were upheaving the foundation of his house.
We hoped the new Virginia climate would encourage the bush to develop fruit after it got over transplant shock. Tiny leaves sprouted, delicate lavender flowers emerged, and tender droplet sized buds offered potential. Would fruit show up in the same year? It did! I ate a few berries straight off the bush and dried about 25 for oatmeal.
Those who know me expect a regular appreciative photo of the weekly haul from our local farmers market.* This gathering has become very crowded for a local, but I completely understand because it is a Saturday ritual, a treat of local produce, and a family-full forum of friendly dogs and their humans. It is one of my happy places.
Purple Daikon Radish Raphanus sativus
I was particularly delighted by the late autumn crop of purple daikon radish from Fritillary Farm. Milder than the breakfast radish, these beauties last longer when kept in a covered container and cool place. Like its cousin the watermelon radish, which sports a litmus stain candy cane coloring (scored earlier in the season from Cromwell’s Farmstand), it also reveals a gorgeous mandala design. The interior reminds me of a compass, which accurately describes how I feel about being fortunate to lead our meals informed by abundant local produce.
(S)he was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday best…
~~excerpt from Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden
Many of us have a strong leaning toward aphonia, the practice of attributing meaning to things. We “take direction” from the seasons, cycles of the moon, tides, sunrise, sunset, time, symbols, animals, plants, eye contact, facial expressions, numbers, and rituals. I begin the day with a sun salutation practice stretching in gratitude as the dawn breaks, which centers breath, body, and mind. Then I look for the cardinals and listen as they celebrate the day.
One can be inspired in any direction, but it seems clear that observing and appreciating Earth’s fauna and flora acknowledges the essential gift of the years we get to live. Too soon we may lose someone who is one of our cardinal directions; that person with whom one connected, who consistently validated your relevance and experience. As we welcome the return of light, I hope that you are able to hold your dear ones close. Dark days and loneliness are seasonal challenges for many. If you feel temporarily lost, you might help someone who needs your bright smile to see their way clear.
* Secrets of Color is yet to published. It is in editing hopefully to release this year.