Editor’s note: The following guest column was submitted by Catherine Minolli, the Times’ former editor, who retired in September 2019. She currently operates Peaceful Moon Yoga.
Ahhh, the poetry of Spring! The season of rebirth and renewal…the time when the Earth demonstrates her amazing powers– regardless of the headlines. As Ralph Waldo Emerson says, “the Earth laughs in flowers…”
I found laughter of another sort on my morning walk today—the first day of
Spring—and found myself reveling in the poetry of life.
For as long as I’ve lived here in the woods, there’ve been active farms along the road. I’ve been treated to all sorts of sights and sounds I’d have never
grown to appreciate—even anticipate—as a “city girl.” For the past couple of weeks, the farmers have been hauling out truckloads of produce—a regular sight during certain times of the year. Several times, on my way to the studio last week, I pulled out of my driveway behind the sleek red pickup truck, a long flatbed trailing behind—loaded with old wooden crates brimming with produce. I practiced my best, highest-good yogini skills as the truck slowly bounced along Dryden Road—top speed 35, no chance to
pass until after the curve at the county line. That same truck ambled back
and forth my front window several times today, before I ventured out for
some fresh air and walk to Dryden Road.
When I hit the end of my driveway, I thought of another poet—Robert Frost—and decided to go in the opposite direction and head toward the curve at Terry Road. Of the “two roads diverged in my yellow wood, I chose the one less traveled by,” I went north, toward the big muck farm around the bend.
As I walked toward the vast, open fields, I noticed what looked like mucky roots dotting the road, and bent down to investigate further. Parsnips! Firm and
fresh from the Earth, crowned with frilly little green fronds and smelling of the soil. Up ahead, there were several more—scattered along the gravel road like pearls on a beach. Like unburied treasure. Like a major minor miracle. Like laughter in the Spring. A reminder of the sustaining power of
the Earth, and of the skills and dedication of those who dedicate their lives and livelihoods to coaxing her to bear fruit. Of the miracle it all is! A seed, a flower, then food! It tickled me to think of the parsnips nestled in the rich,
dark muck all winter long, being unearthed now to give us their precious and tasty nutrients.
These wayward parsnips—like gifts—reminded me that all will be okay. That
there are miracles all around me, all the time, all within reach if I’m mindful and pay attention. Going back to “our roots,” the hunting and gathering and tilling of the soil…the promise of Spring, always faithful and strong. And of course, anticipating how delicious they’ll taste roasted in olive oil
with a pinch of salt and pepper!
May all be healthy, happy and well…and find many blessings and miracles all around you.
Contact Catherine at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Catherine Minolli is Managing Editor of the Tri-City Times. She began as a freelance writer with the Times in 1994. She enjoys the country life, including raising ducks and chickens.