A shy, quiet man…a longtime bachelor has lived in the green house since before we moved in. Two years ago he married a kind and gentle soul with an easy laugh that carries down the road a ways. There is a mysterious but palpable mutuality about them and together they have brought an Eden forth from the previously neat but plain small acreage. They have planted grapes and berries, fruit trees, flowering shrubs and other marvels. Bird feeders and squirrel feeders have blossomed throughout the property and into this peaceable kingdom they have brought a goofy, gangly dog. He fits perfectly into this House of Joy.
Across the street from them is what used to be the Beloved Forest. It was beloved by the man who owned it, walked in it, and tended it. When he died he left it to his son. During the winter his son logged the 200 acre wood. It didn’t feel like a harvest or even a business transaction. It felt like anger. It felt like vengeance. It felt like trauma.
Last week when we walked past the slash piles, many 20 feet tall, Todd saw a sunflower. We stopped and marveled. It’s strange to see a sunflower in the forest…where did it come from? How can it grow in that soil? It was unusual, out of place, and yet…hopeful. One thin sunflower next to a slash pile, one small voice rising among the devastation.
Today I walked past the slash piles again.
There were hundreds of sunflowers.
Hundreds.
I stood overwhelmed by the bright yellow heads all pointed towards the rising sun this morning…and then I turned and noticed the House of Joy— the Peaceable Kingdom with it’s feeders and bounteous love of Life.