To Know the Dark
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.
“The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry,” Counterpoint, 1998: p. 68.
I find myself revisiting this very Novemberish poem. Going dark.
A meditative morning
cleaning out a garden bed,
getting ready for garlic.
Pulling out the old growth
to make room.
Letting in the light,
just before the rain.
There is so much color here —
so much joy in the seeding and growing,
planting and transplanting.
Watching, waiting, watering.
But there is sorrow, too.
Sorrow in letting it all go,
pulling it out —
even as I know that I must let it go
to make space for what is to come.
Questions about poetry versus prose.
I couldn’t clean up.
She brought me flowers.
The first autumn leaves come inside
in baskets and pockets.
Handfuls of chestnuts, shiny brown and gold.
The smell of beeswax fills the house
as rain falls outside
and a chubby toddler brings fists-full
of dirty carrots, fresh from the garden,
inside to wash off
up at the sink.
Leo Creek was our classroom this morning.
Cleaning off the table at the end of the week . . . there is much I want to remember and savor here. After two very challenging first weeks, this week was wonderful. The weather. Walks outside. Star gazing. Beach time. Books. Poetry. Writing. Exploring. Wallace’s morning circle. Making wreaths. Shakespeare. Music lessons. Expanding our timeline. Looking at works of great art. Math with Papa. These are the things of my homeschool dreams.
“It’s on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly.” — Claude Monet
Watching my children — really paying attention to them at play — is one of my greatest joys.
More baby work during lesson time . . .
It is one of my favorite parts of homeschooling. Taking a walk with my three on these autumn mornings when the air is so rich with life letting go. So much growth this year. So much abundance. And then in the fall, we slowly release it all.
p.s. Maybe we shouldn’t have named “her” Earl! Look at “her”! “She” has grown up to be a he!