I have found it’s impossible to be in a bad mood after going out into the morning at Spirit Hill Farm.
I’ve tried.
Even Jerry Seinfeld wakes up anxious, not feeling great. He said so. I forget where—maybe Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.
Anyway.
He also said that as soon as he gets up, things shift. He feels better.
I have that experience with the chickens and the plants, with the property as a whole. (I have found that Spirit Hill Farm is almost impossible to capture with photographs—I’ve tried. It’s a full-body experience.)
As soon as I get up, pull on my boots, grab my coffee and head out to feed the chickens and to check on the gardens, the world that is inside my head brightens.
Hello, finches. Hello, olive trees. Hello, bocce ball court. Hello, hungry chickens with the pleading eyes and bossy dance steps. Thank you for the eggs. Hello, baby radishes, so hopeful. Hello, sweet pears, too small to eat, but growing fatter almost by the second. Hello, blueberries, raspberris and strawberries, thank you for breakfast. Hello, roses wet with dew. Hello, aphids, welcome to the party. Hello kiwis, I see you! Hello apple trees, look at you! How many apples can one tree grow? Hello gopher holes–who’s sleeping down there? I see you, jackrabbit, bounding between the grape vines. Hello, lavender, buzzing with life-giving bees. Hello, pool.
And then I jump in, and the day has officially begun.
