I can finally appreciate Christmas, too, with a happier heart. For countless generations, my family has celebrated Christmas with food and fun.

That riot of December beauty, contrast, and sweetness happening beyond my circle of embrace? It reminds me of the number of things I have not yet discovered. The world is full of so much splendor that we cannot possibly cross paths with all of it in one lifetime.

Our choice continues to make sense financially. In a world where it’s getting easier to consciously uncouple and harder to afford a home, I wouldn’t be surprised to see more folks choosing this path.

The lesson is not lost on me. We are designed to nourish ourselves first. We succeed together, no doubt. My path is interconnected with yours the way that the roots of trees share information and nourishment, protecting the forest.

I put my hand on my heart. “As I say this, I’m fully attending to these qualities in their wholeness. My heart is filling with warmth, softening. I feel a sense of aliveness. The vegetables are still there, but now when I look at them, I feel less of a demand to make soup.

Pictured above is my desk quince. If you’ve been on the other side of my Zoom screen for classes or coaching in the past month, you may have seen me palm this fruit to smell it. That’s honestly my favorite thing to do with quince.

Half Moon had passed some weeks before of an ailment exceedingly rare and unexpected. She had died while being treated at Oregon State University, a whole county away, and many of her friends in the barn still appeared to await her return.

I stopped at Horai, one of my favorite farm-to-table bakery stands, and bought the best potato knish I’ve ever eaten. The savory spices blended perfectly with buttery soft Yukon Gold potatoes, and the flaky pastry crumbled with every bite. I went back and grabbed the tiny dish of pickle mustard to go with it.

We slow down. We go deep into our hearts, touch our truth, and softly, it glows. We come to life. This glow starts a chain reaction and the beings beside us light up too. Our vibration touches them, and their hearts illuminate. I’ve seen it over a thousand times.

Rich, sweet, and savory all at once, this meal from Sunday has been the core of lunch offerings through this period of loving and mourning our sweet Harley.

I grieved for her pain, and I grieved for my imminent loss. I felt grateful for the beauty and meaningful connection of these past few days. And I realized in a flash that this grief was not helping Harley. It was authentic … and it was centered on my experience, not hers.

Seda and I harvested apples in the morning, then lugged the card table, chairs, cutting boards, knives, and bowls out to erect our workstation in the sun. We sorted, washed, dried, and sliced our fruit before setting it aside for its next destination.

I considered what was in my power to do that could be helpful. Worry, though tempting, did not top the list. In fact, I found myself actively re-routing worry as I daily assessed his mobility and pain. It was no easy feat to side-step concern on those fronts.

That’s how we see what’s truly important to us. We discover that in the end, we have fit it in around the edges, in the middle, on the sides. We innovate and sometimes sleep a little less. But when we hold the harvest in our hands … that is such a sweet moment, isn’t it?

That midday luncheon above showcased our autumn arugula and the last of the heirloom tomatoes as well as my new Love … Greek Gigante beans! All that and a strawberry lovage shrub pretty much sent me.

“The over-sized hydrangeas and wind-gnarled coastal pines are signature features of autumn in Newport. I grew up on the coast, so this is my home-away-from-home.”

“Seda and I met in the Bearlodge Writers group in Sundance, Wyoming, over 30 years ago, and this weekend we came full circle to retreat and write together again. We are both stepping towards writing full time and we are both ecstatic about the lifestyle it allows.”

No matter how many times I’m schooled on the magic of timing, I’m apt to forget it in the face of my desire. Maybe I want desperately to say something and be heard … but this time, this place, this person — not going to happen.

I felt grateful as I polished my terminal connections for love, allowing the flow to nourish me. I laughed at my sleepy daze of loneliness and separation.

We share our abundance knowingly and sometimes unknowingly. Our fruit trees hang over others’ fences; our smiles inspire smiles all around us. All of this sharing is a wonder to me. There is no shortage of wonder in the world. I am grateful beyond measure.