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You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.

~Henry David Thoreau

Dear Reader

April tugs and nudges me with an increasing force. Wake up she calls, enough with your drowsy slumber. Here I am dancing along with all that bursts forth, keep in step, and I’ll be your guide. Allow me, and nothing else, to be your conduit to what is real and true. In this way of being, duplicity, deception, and illusion can not exist.

Catch me now, she calls as her tempo increases. Remain still, and you will miss all of the wonder ahead. Join me, and you’ll experience abundance free of expectations. Although my pace is quick, it is not relentless. The chilly mornings invite a slow start, and days of steady, gentle rains give us pause. Just be with me. Tune in over and again when distraction comes, because it will, tempting as it is, there is nothing true or as real as I.
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As a mother observes her newborn with vigilance and care, I watch the weather and adjust plans. Seeding cover crops just before a light rain, holding off on new starts when there will be a deep frost, and preparing beds in the warming sun every opportunity that arises. I’ve spent my week twirling and swaying to April’s tempo.

A storybook snowfall arrived on Tuesday, beginning just before dawn. Cozy and warm, I gazed out my window at the world. So precious was the view, I didn’t dare look away. Beginning as sifted powdered sugar, it increased in intensity until large, fluffy flakes soon filled the sky.

All forms faded quickly behind this curtain of white. Tension I didn’t even know I held slipped from my shoulders as my breath slowed, and I enjoyed the show. I mentally juggled my list. With no one to reschedule but the onion starts, I turned my attention to soup and sourdough, which filled the morning.

On Wednesday, the sun rose bright, with a crisp blue sky as a backdrop. Alerted first by their iconic honking, three Canadian Geese took up residence in the very same pond where the Blue Heron feeds at night. I delighted in their antics as they splashed and preened in the shallow waters. Later, as I worked the front garden beds, they alternated between grazing and basking in the sun. I wondered how they might behave once evening arrived, as they seemed set to settle in. But without a negotiator, and just a few loud honks, an agreement was reached, and resources were shared. If only the contrived world could take some cues.

As the sun continued to warm the air, Thursday's priority was to reshape the permanent garden beds. Not the most appealing job of spring, albeit important. On another timeline, I might have tended to this task in the fall, but I am still learning. With a rake and a wheel hoe, I reestablished paths between each bed and trimmed back any floppy residue from the overwintered oats. By day's end, the rows of neat and tidy beds ready for planting were quite satisfying.

Friday was leek and onion planting, the first we have grown from seed. Pleasantly surprised with these first results, I proudly carried several flats of soil blocks into the garden. Learning more each year, I've come to appreciate the difference between fresh vs. storage onions and early baby vs. hardy winter leeks. This year, we will have them all.

This week, our dining room table became host to 60lbs of seed potatoes. Not the most talkative of guests, but certainly peaceful with plenty of potential. Spread in open trays, enjoying the sunlight, they have begun to show a hint of green sprouts. Chitting or Greensprouting potatoes provides them with a much-debated advantage. With so many factors influencing a potato's lifespan its hard to tell what made the difference. This year, because my seed potatoes arrived early, and since the dining room already had five feathered guests, it was a good year to test the process. Weather willing, the potatoes will be slipped into their beds next weekend, and the chicks, thank goodness, will graduate to the screen porch. The dining room with hope will resume its usual role.

In closing, I invite you to listen to the recorded conversation I had with dear friends Christine and Lois. I don't have to remind you that we are living through extraordinary times. Learning to work with the energy present rather than against it will serve you and all you serve well. The five days that began on Friday, 10 April, and end on Tuesday, 14 April, extend a special invitation to trust the chaos in your life and the world around you. You are being called to use the abundant tools and resources that you already possess. The possibilities of the service you can provide are limitless, but you must be awake and willing. Not unlike the month of April's invitation that I shared at the start of this letter, Gate 42 asks you to follow its nourishing flow of energy.

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Until next week,

The sun transits through Gates 42 & 3

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