Surprised by Beauty

A farm share is a recent luxury in my life, and four months in I am still marveling.  The thirty-five minute drive leaves behind the clutter and congestion of the suburbs with every mile, and breathing and mood both deepen and lighten.  Today the sky is a postcard or a painting -- the perfect shade of cobalt that always carries a reminder of New Jersey on 9/11.  That hint of brokenness persisting underneath such a canopy of beauty only deepens my appreciation for the aesthetic feast before me. 
I swing my car into the wood-lined lane, alongside all the other Subarus, and carry my woven market basket and a mason jar down to receive our allotment of vibrant yellow and purple and orange and green, green, green organic vegetable goodness.  But this week flowers are ready for cutting, and berries are ripe for picking, so there is an extra layer of delight in this bi-weekly errand of mine.  My companions on the opposite side of the raspberry bushes are a brother and sister who look to be about eight and ten.  Clearly the older of the two, he makes slight respectful conversation with me as we work in almost mirrored pace down the row.  "I have twice as many berries as you," he gently chides his sister.  At this admonishment I stop my dawdling and concentrate industry toward my own near-empty pint basket.  "I don't care," came the soft distracted voice from much further away.  "I am just enjoying the moment."

Down in the flower patch a young couple has taken a professional approach to their bouquet acquisition, attired for business in matching garden overalls and straw hats.  She directs him in the colors and the length of stem and uses terminology I have never heard.  Evidently he is a bit weary of the long instructions to accomplish her vision, and voices his objection with bland sarcasm.  "Thanks for all the acronyms."  Unfazed, she chirps a sunny, "You're welcome," as she brushes off their shiny gardening shears.  They turn their attention on the hill leading to the raspberries and I am alone in the flower patch with the snapdragons and zinnias. 
I love this breath, and its immediate context, "enjoying the moment." Straightening, jar filled with blossoms, I spread my thoughts wider -- to the year, and then to my whole life. 
My own hands have wrought damage where they should have brought blessing -- grief is at the back of my mind always.  But so many blue sky, flower-filled, soft sounding moments have been gifted to me.  Beauty persists, intrudes, invades my days over and over again.  It is around everything, and it softens me the way a sunset changes the landscape when it paints the tones of deep golden pink on the world.
The Farm website maintains the benefits of growing food in the most healthful way, and of participation in the community built around this intrinsic aspect of humanity. It is a good place to be, two times every month, for both of those reasons.

God, in great love for me, uses it for so much more.