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The Kitchen

One of my happiest moments in the day happens in my kitchen around 5:30 in the morning. I have an hour before the sun rises, before the official day begins. An hour to live within the last droplets of night when the world is quiet, and the healing of the earth and my body take place. There is not much to do in the hour before dawn except remain in this state of near sleep but not asleep, this state of a dream, this place where the day has not happened, and anything can…


My kitchen is where so much of my life begins. I am alone at 5:30. The kettle my dad gave me for my birthday long long ago, a birthday without my mother, is filled with filtered water and sitting there waiting to make my cup of coffee.

As I wait, I notice my sweet potato vines have grown throughout the night. I study them a bit and again become amazed at how these skinny vines will one day, this fall, give me sweet potatoes.

There are the eggshells I baked in the oven yesterday, thick shells of calcium from my little flock of hens. These will go into the garden today to help ward off slugs and give my plants calcium. There is also a glass gallon jar filled with organic banana peels and water…in a couple of days I will water my tomato and pepper plants…giving them much-needed potassium, and helping them to survive in the sometimes brutal world of the garden.


And for beauty, the first magnolia of the season sits near the sink…


This awkward little piece of prose is posted for an unspecified reason, the day breaks, and I begin another April day. My prayer is for a productive day, a day of goodness (and several trips to my garden).

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