Finding the point
I woke up this morning feeling depleted and bereft after pushing too hard against my natural rhythm all week. The burning question in my mind was, “What’s the point?” I honestly couldn’t say. I went out into the garden, knowing that connecting with living, growing things is usually balm for my soul. I picked raspberries, gently plucking the sweet thimble-like fruit into a well worn paper pint container – a simple and kindly reassuring task. I harvested beans and tomatoes,…