I have just returned from dropping my girls off for their second day of school. I did a quick drive by my little beach garden not far from our home to check on its state after the deluge of rain and wind. One little tomato plant has a slight tilt to it but it’s the one bearing the most weight. I pick the ripe-and-ready red one and pop it in my mouth. Yum! It’s my first veggie garden and just a small scratch of land with an eight-foot high fence around it that was built by a very kind man at my work. The yield so far has been modest and I eat most of what I pick right then and there on each visit. It’s amazing that it has done as well as it has considering it has had my intermittent attention this summer but those little seeds had so much power packed into them, they were ready to do what they were meant to do.
As I take a cup of tea and sit down on my back deck to collect my thoughts and make my mental list of what I am meant to do for the day I hope that I can find as much purpose as those little seeds. I watch a tiny spider mend its web. He has anchored his handiwork between two chairs. I disturb his work when my chair moves. I read once that when a single strand of a web breaks, the overall web strength actually increases. The seeds, this spider’s silk, it’s nature at it’s finest.
I start to think about the fury of the hurricanes that have flattened and flooded our neighbours in the south. I marvel and shiver at the power and strength of our natural world and of the things that we will never control. I think about a friend who grieves the loss of her mother and for the second time this week I bring my thoughts to some words by Hemingway. “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”
The seeds, this spider’s silk, those hurricanes, that grief. I bring my mind back to my own day and my task to wrap up another issue of this magazine. I think about the strength and determination of every person and story that finds a place on these pages. On a farm in Whitehill, Pictou County, Corey Ceccolini plants with the purpose not only to fill the baskets of her customers but to store seed and share in our community of growers. In a kitchen near Tatamagouche, journalist, social anthropologist and author Joan Baxter unites with cookbook author Oumou Nomoko to celebrate their culinary journeys in Africa. Both of these stories are important in the acknowledgement that we really need to learn more about food security (more of that to follow in upcoming issues). We then make a trip to the shore where one family is building their dream one beam at a time and the other embraced by the warmth only found in a timber frame house. And then look up…way up to the top of the barn where you just might find a quilt, not your usual spot to find a quilt but when you see one it will remind you of everything good and strong, purposeful and worthy about living in our little corner of the world. I hope that Lori’s DIY project will inspire you to create something of your own this fall that celebrates this season of gratitude and thanksgiving.
Everything and everyone has a purpose in this world. Some of us are born knowing our purpose and some of us find it accidentally. Whatever your reason for being, I hope that it brings you joy, and knowing you or not I want to thank you for it…now back to my tea.