When Jen and I were brainstorming names for our new blog, one of the words that really resonated with me was “Harvest.” I bounced around a lot of titles including this word because I feel like this time in my life is the High Harvest. It’s not the Thanksgiving, end of the season harvest, but the one where things are just starting to get good. It’s like when the grocery store finally has good fruit again after a winter of just apples.
For as long as I can remember, I assumed that my life would be like my mom’s life: That I would meet my future husband in college, that we would be married after we graduated, that we would start a family after a few years of getting used to being married.
But of course, my journey was quite different. After school I lived in Europe. I came home and bounced from job to job. I met my husband the year that I turned 30. And after a few years of dating, and a few years of marriage, Here we are.
Where the strawberries are, I see my two sweet daughters’ faces smiling back at me. Amongst the watermelons, our lovely new home. Tucked in with the pineapple, my darling husband. And here and there, with the asparagus, the leeks, and the heirloom tomatoes, my family and the friends whom I cherish.
Now, lest you think that the harvest is a time to rest on one’s laurels, let me assure that the harvest is still work and life is not perfect. We have two little ones, still in diapers. My dad is in chemotherapy, fighting for his life. My husband works time and a half every day so that I can stay at home with our children. This is far from easy. And we are not resting.
Still, I look at all of the wonderful things that are coming from my years of hard sowing and in those rare moments of solitude and quiet, I am so grateful to be just where I have landed. I am enjoying the High Harvest and wondering which seeds I will sow next.