Back in Fresno, back to school, and music lessons, and the garden and everything else. While we were in Santa Cruz, peas appeared magically on our pea plants. Seriously, there were no peas or even the beginnings of peas when we left Thursday morning, and Sunday evening, the plants were full of them. I don’t care what biologists say. The growth of plants is miraculous to me. If we weren’t so used to it, we’d be marveling all the time at the appearance of things that weren’t there before.
And I continue to hope for a miracle with Peter, for the growth of inner peace (hm, that’s a pun, with peas . . . and I didn’t even plan that). Because he certainly doesn’t have it right now.
Silas joked yesterday that we’ve had our crash, personally speaking, and our great depression, and now it’s time for the New Deal. And he’s right. It’s time. We just don’t know what the new deal is yet.
So, what’s the deal? What’s our new deal? I suspect we’re growing into it. Hopefully it will grow fast, like the peas, and surprise us. We’re watching for it, anyway.