It is June 9th, after Memorial Day so officially summer, right? The thermostats have been turned down, and we should no longer be heating the house. But tonight my husband came home chilled because it is gray and damp outside, and he was dressed for summer weather. “Let’s make a fire,” I suggested. Two hours later the wood stove is warming the house, summer or not.
Two days ago I went out to the vegetable garden to pick lettuce and peas. The lettuce is easy at this time of year; every seed has germinated and the greens are six inches tall and need to be thinned. I pull every third and fourth plant out of the ground and the next day it’s impossible to tell that I’ve harvested anything at all. The peas are another story.
At first glance, there are few peapods to harvest. Looking down on the vines, a flower and developing pod or two are visible, but it seems as if there aren’t many that are ready for picking. When I bend down, however, head to the ground, the atypical view revels something different. Looking at the vines upside down and head on, I see many peapods that are ready to be picked. Yes, this posture is harder on my back and the blood rushes to my head, but the rewards are worth it.
How often do we resist looking at things from another perspective? It is summer, after all, and we shouldn’t have to make a fire or turn on the furnace. But are we missing something wonderful because seeing and attaining it might take more effort, or be a bit uncomfortable? We should ask ourselves, “Am I overlooking the harvest that is right in front of me, just because I’m unwilling to bring in wood and kindling, or bend over?”
