Wild Geese

Artist: Lucy Grossmith

Our first set of guests have come and gone. Among them, my sister-in-law who, among other sparkling qualities, is an amazing cook. This woman can turn an ordinary vegetable into a dazzling culinary experience. I don’t know how she does it, but I’m going to convince her to let me help her publish a cookbook. (She doesn’t know this yet.) As per usual, I took NO PHOTOS because I was too distracted by the food and the conversation. I really must do better. I really do want to capture this summer in all its beauty.

Instead of photos, I will leave you with this - my favourite poem.

Wild Geese

By Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing yoru place

in the family of things.