Jerusalem Artichokes

I though you were sunflowers, all in a clump - surprised actually that so many sunflowers would all grow together so thickly - but you have and I’m glad - I love Jerusalem Artichokes - roasted with chicken in a meal from Jerusalem cookbook. Their’s is a smoky morsel that I just never say no to. And amongst the rest of this garden there is growth and decay. There are fruit trees struggling for one reason or another - and there is the fresh growth from others that tells me they are going to do fine - last the summer and hunker down over winter - their roots doing their thing - storing their energy for the Spring. And you? Will you be here this Spring? Will you be here to see the growth after what I’m sure will be a long Winter? Perhaps. Perhaps. I am tending this garden because it grounds me - speaks to me of unspeakable truths. The ants were disturbed as I weeded - and their ferocity to defend their patch was incredible. I think…what do I love so that I will defend to the death? My soul is looking for a way to show me it’s purpose - it’s thing it is growing that I might join it in impenetrable joy - the way I rose from my after my nap was the sense that rest is a profound act of freedom. To rest without anxiety - without the rushing fear that comes to engulf afterwards. This rumbling in my soul will continue whether you are there or not - and I am shuddering today as I think of you going away - all the little fears are there that make up why that is so. Thus the garden, thus artichokes - thus the need to collect the chickens and actually stay here for the meanwhile because my feet are like roots - need the soil - need to be planted - just like you - and I must go on like this until the day you call and I come wandering - wandering like a food towards home - like a prodigal to their other homeland - feeling the blood thicken as I take my time to really make you mine.