FALL 2009
It is 1:00 am, an hour I am almost never awake for. I was asleep earlier—but woke up, restless, and unable to re-enter the world of dreams. So I came down to my basement office to spend a little time at my computer. It is very dark outside, and very silent. I know there are night birds around. I have occasionally heard an owl hooting in the night. I have heard the squeaks of bats flying through midnight skies, eating their fill of mosquitoes. But they are silent tonight—perhaps haunting other hunting grounds—looking for mice and mosquitoes in other yards than mine.
I spent part of today (or yesterday, I suppose) preparing potatoes for drying. They are in the dehydrator even now. It is my first experience with dehydrating potatoes, and my second of dehydrating any vegetable (I did yellow neck squash a few days ago). It is part of my attempt to become a person who eats locally grown produce. I am dehydrating some vegetables for use in winter soups.
The earth is beautiful. I just peeked outside. It is a starless and moonless night. The silent grey sky portends rain. The aroma of pine and weeping cherry leaves wafts to my nose, carried by a warm breeze that caresses my face and blows through my pajamas.
I love this earth that God created: clouds and stars, squirrels and eagles, mountains and seas. I want to find ways to keep it safe, to pass it, healed, to my great-grandchildren. And so I write words to encourage others to learn to love this world. I pray for trees and rivers and mountains as I drive by them. And I shop at local farmers’ markets, canning and drying fruits and vegetables, supporting the local farmers, and lowering my own carbon footprint.
Sondra Ball
Clerk, Salem Quarterly MeetingRETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS
Last modified:
Saturday, August 29, 2009 at 03:42 PM
