“The body that eats from the garden knows exactly where it is: what soil, what season, what light. The body that eats from a supply chain has no address.”
Beautiful, Bill. “When I eat it, my body doesn’t just consume the plant; it continues the sunlight’s journey. Through the quiet fire of metabolism, I break those solar bonds and release that energy into my own nervous system.” A stunning depiction of interbeing. ☀️🌱
I think this is one of your best essays that I have read and/or it unfolded within me in just the right way. The connections you made between VanGogh’s chives to making your chive oil to the chemical reactions and relationships between sun, soil, plant and human to the gathering with your friends and sharing it with them to robins and back to VanGogh… wow! What a beautiful journey through the senses, heart, and soul of being!
I love the thought that my garden senses my presence and mood — that reciprocity between us, as the presence of plants and their visitors brings me calm and happiness. Garlic chives volunteered last summer in my boulevard garden, a wayward lovely gift.
Fabulous piece, as always. It reminds me of a favorite quote from Barbara Brown Taylor: "What kind of revelations are we missing in this world because we insist on walking upright, while so much life takes place closer to the ground."
"I have come to see that tending to plants helps us tend each other." And what tenderness we can offer with the realization. A beautiful, soulful post this morning.
I’m heading to the garden now, knowing it recognizes me. This makes me so happy. I’m also going to divide my chives and plant them in a pot! Maybe I’ll paint them too. Thanks for the inspiration, again!
"...when you approach a garden, the plants already know you are coming." I love this! I've been talking to my trees and plants for longer than I can remember. It's nice to know that they are appreciating me as well. Life is short. Pay attention! ("What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." James 4:14)
“The body that eats from the garden knows exactly where it is: what soil, what season, what light. The body that eats from a supply chain has no address.”
This resonated deeply. Thank you. 🌱🪴🫶🏼
Beautiful, Bill. “When I eat it, my body doesn’t just consume the plant; it continues the sunlight’s journey. Through the quiet fire of metabolism, I break those solar bonds and release that energy into my own nervous system.” A stunning depiction of interbeing. ☀️🌱
"the quiet fire of metabolism" and so much more in this piece that I hope to metabolize. Thank you, as always, your essays are deeply nourishing.
rilke and garlic chives.
my home burned down last june and i am just now in a new home getting ready to plan a garden. garlic chives outside.
and a print of van gogh's garlic chives inside.
thank you, bill.
I think this is one of your best essays that I have read and/or it unfolded within me in just the right way. The connections you made between VanGogh’s chives to making your chive oil to the chemical reactions and relationships between sun, soil, plant and human to the gathering with your friends and sharing it with them to robins and back to VanGogh… wow! What a beautiful journey through the senses, heart, and soul of being!
Beautiful. A post for all the senses. Thanks so much.
"The chives were recently light."
Every spring, as I prune the apples, pears, peaches, raspberries, and blueberries, I marvel at the miracle of photosynthesis!
I love the thought that my garden senses my presence and mood — that reciprocity between us, as the presence of plants and their visitors brings me calm and happiness. Garlic chives volunteered last summer in my boulevard garden, a wayward lovely gift.
Fabulous piece, as always. It reminds me of a favorite quote from Barbara Brown Taylor: "What kind of revelations are we missing in this world because we insist on walking upright, while so much life takes place closer to the ground."
"I have come to see that tending to plants helps us tend each other." And what tenderness we can offer with the realization. A beautiful, soulful post this morning.
"I have come to see that tending to plants helps us tend each other."
I love this line, your story, your writing style, your perspective, your heart.
Thank you for this gift in essay form.
I’m heading to the garden now, knowing it recognizes me. This makes me so happy. I’m also going to divide my chives and plant them in a pot! Maybe I’ll paint them too. Thanks for the inspiration, again!
I felt I was on this full journey with you.
Just beautiful. I have no words.
"...when you approach a garden, the plants already know you are coming." I love this! I've been talking to my trees and plants for longer than I can remember. It's nice to know that they are appreciating me as well. Life is short. Pay attention! ("What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." James 4:14)
Somehow you’ve reached over & touched my heart. I’ve had to start & stop this essay a few times because I was literally overcome with emotion.