Monday, August 02, 2004

"He who is born with a silver spoon in his mouth is generally considered a fortunate person, but his good fortune is small compared to that of the happy mortal who enters this world with a passion for flowers in his soul." -Celia Thaxter

August here in Portland brings a bounty of production. The last few days I've been noting the mounds of apples piled on the ground under sagging trees, brown spotted and rotting into apple mush, a virtual bee heaven.

Walking Joey down along the creek, the winey smell of huge bunches of overripe blackberries is overpowering - rich and heavy, the musky perfume reaching out to coat my nose and throat.
It occurs to me that there are so many places where this fruit would not be wasted.

I doubt that Celia ever experienced starvation in her home town.
I certainly haven't.
I too often forget that the majority of the people in this world do not have the luxury to let apples fall and rot. Let blackberries ferment unharvested.

It's really just a horrible waste of time for me to get wound up in thinking of the "things" I've been denied, or the "things" I wish for.

I am carrying an abundance of fruit and it is more than enough.

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