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I know that many will agree with me when I say that 2018 has been rough.  As this year draws to its conclusion, I’ve been looking through old journals and have taken note of previous entries.  2016 was confusing and filled with alarm.  2017 was a fighting and frightening year.  And 2018… Well.  We’re just tired now.

I'm writing in a hobbit hole, off the grid, on a mountain side in Northern Washington. The setting couldn't be more perfect. There's still some snow covering the ground at our elevation, steep sagebrush hills framing the horizon, a shimmering mountain lake reflecting the setting sun. I want to write about joyful things or find beauty in difficult things, but the only words that are coming to me are “I am so exhausted.”

The Beloved who I live with, has a different sensibility about what our yard should look like than I do.  This Beloved finds comfort in order, in straight lines, and in carefully cut and trimmed plants.  Yet, in the over twenty five years in which this Beloved and I have been in relationship, they have also come to understand that I am nourished by the wildness of the wisteria vines and the buzz of bees that annually make our porch sing in the Spring.  I am nourished by the small red tea roses clambering up into the tree entwining with her branches so that red blossoms peer from unexpected places throughout the Summer.  I am nourished by the sweetness of blackberry brambles scrambling over and under the back fence from the neighbor’s yard, brambles with thorns that protect them so that harvesting must be done with full presence and attention in the midst of my rapture as Summer turns to Fall.  And then there are the Dandelions, which in our climate can bloom even in the Winter.  The Dandelions have come to almost fully populate what was once a grass lawn all around the house.  Even in drought years the Dandelions persist with their dark green leaves, brilliant yellow flowers, and whimsical puff balls.  I am most certainly nourished by Dandelions.