My planned post for this weekend was to tell you all about my garden. I have pictures that show the gorgeous soil that was tilled so faithfully by Eldon. The natural weed control plan I had in place which involved laying end roll newspaper and covering it with straw. It was looking so gorgeous.
My spring peas were just starting to climb the fence, my lettuce was just about ready for picking. 10 rows of heirloom, non-GMO corn planted and starting to sprout out. The rest of the garden awaiting seeds and plants.
Then we had an EF3 tornado in our community that took two lives, about 50 homes and thousands of huge old trees. Flooding came with that. The calmness I felt through it all was very strange. I was very sad and heartsick for those so horrifically effected. But it wasn't until I saw that my garden was gone that somehow it hit me. And I cried and cried. Hopefully, I'm not so shallow that I was crying for the loss of my garden. But when I looked at it and felt so heartsick, I had a picture (albeit very tiny) of what it must feel like to come out of your shelter to the absolute loss of life, home and belongings. All that you have labored for and loved. Gone. In the space of a few minutes.
This morning I took a drive just a mile or so from our farm to see some of the damage. Obviously not through the destroyed neighborhoods where they are limiting traffic and gawkers. But I drove a backroad alongside some very damaged homes and through the woods. I took my camera. I couldn't manage to hardly lift it to my face. I felt so horrified at the devastation. And I can't believe that it was so close to our home and that of our daughter and family.
I stopped at my favorite local Farmer's Market to buy some fresh strawberries and cried with the lady that owns the market. The strawberry farmer lost his entire crop. His livelihood. The bucket of strawberries I bought came from the field where he and his brother tried, the day after the tornado, to salvage what they could to sell. We stood there and the tears rolled. She told me of the lady that lost a good share of her house and the work involved to have everything repaired was huge. But she came to buy flowers to plant because she needed to get her hands in the soil and see life.
I will begin work in my garden again next week. And instead of crying about all the work that I need to re-do I will be thankful that I, and my family, are alive to work the soil again.
Today, I missed my parents so much. I think I just wanted to cuddle up next to my elderly Momma and Daddy and feel the comfort that only parents can give.
(The above picture is me with my parents and my daughter and her girls taken back in November.)
Life is precious.
And I have a heart full of thankfulness.