The Basket That Binds

Hello my Darlin Dears.....and Deers....fellow meadow creatures and you sweet basil, whom I love,

It is harvest here at the homestead....right now, my hair is full of chaff and my skin smells of sweet cream and wheat (sweet cream because Ohio kicked the milk bucket right into my face this morn)

I adore baskets....baskets of all kinds.... Especially this basket, and the man who I hope beyond hope is still willing to not only keep it stocked, but hold it for me:)



Folks... not going to lie....nor am I one to ever play games... games are something I play with Harold, as we chase each other through the pasture....or with the ducks, as they patiently wait for me to turn on the sprinkler, because they love sticking their heads into the stream :)

Nor do my dreams ever lie about my emotion....

Here is a dream I had, just the other night, put into a poem :)

It was one the loveliest dreams I have had in all of my sweet old days...

Basically....this certain man brought me a basket of farm goods, and went into detail why he brought each:)

Title: "Nature's Bounty"

On this place of the morn
Meadow given a color of the spirit
Beds prepared with holy words
Light & Sweet
Young tomato leaves made fragrant with touch
Exposure of roots and truth
Trestle with hope
The green finding new heights


You find me on the steps
Dress fallen in spring waves against this place
Spoken for with gentle lions hidden as home
Mane’s always seeking your fingers and complete sighs
A basket to behold, you carry against your suspender chest
Nature’s Bounty…. given with our Harvest

This is Sweet Basil, you say
Picked not only the leaves, but the flowers to
A sauce of magic you make for winter
Warmth given by you
Use the flowers in your candles
The wax of Bee’s to see us through

Carrots I grew, you laugh
Better than any in the county
Planted with your on looking eyes
The Strawberries flourished in their patch
Birds will even let them come to Harvest
They like to sing as you sing, while you bake your fresh fruit pies

A bundle of Giant spinach I give
Grown large as Elephant ears, just to make you laugh
Your friends, the Cottontails of the Meadow
Will end up with more than half


Here I have Lavender
Bundled with the Rosemary that grew by the gate
I never took much note of either
Until our days breathed of each


A pitcher of cream
A jar of honey
Found truly in your glow
Never knowing a heart like yours
Gone to pasture with splendor and my own
Giving color even the soil could not grow

Renaming the flowers with our smiles
Making anew the trees
Both petal and leaf found tucked in your curls
The one’s I bound with wild greens

They lay in the basket next too the peaches
The one’s I fondly named after you
I will only ask you bake me something whole-hearted
Something with a crust of hearts and golden hew
Just let me hold your hand through this Recipe uncharted
Play with the strings of your Apron of homemade blue

Strands of Garlic, you can braid like your Hair
It should carry us well into next spring
Roses and Roses and Roses in mason jars
Not only match your lips, but a promise
A truth sung upon mountains
Our story of found, fondly told by the Stars


A life and a Garden is all we needed
Me the leaf of searching
And you the spring of creation
Nature’s Bounty….
Given with our Harvest


.........................

It is most obvious my brain has been in the garden, and with that, my heart more heavy than all the wichita's ....

I have hope....& lot's of it....but it is growing like Potatoes.... showie and green above the ground, but not tested until it is dug up and thrown in the basket....

If this makes any sense, I have dug up the Potatoes, and a man hold's the basket... Our time together is more flowered than any orchard and I believe our smiles have outnumbered the beads of grain in the west field.... but goodness gracious....life ...

Let's just hope the light filters through....

That there will be a good harvest of Potatoes and a strong and knowing hand to carry them:)

Enjoy all of that above banter, and I apologize for the rambling....my brain is a pathless meadow...as stated in my Header:)

Apricots, Canning & you,

Miss Samantha Joelle Honey Lamb