The end of my favorite back yard ever!

I wasn't prepared.

I felt a swelling in my throat as I saw this really cool machine approaching our back yard. I knew that this time would come, and soon, but I dreaded it.

The farmer and machine workers just went about their work, anticipating the end result--the golden grain filling up the waiting truck.

I knew that for Signor Sintoni, it was the sweet result of his efforts.

The men didn't seem to care about the sad good-byes waving from the long stems.

But I noticed.

I cared.

It may sound like I am being dramatic, but honestly it was a very hard thing for me to see.
It isn't all about the Amber Waves of Grain, though truly this is my new favorite ground cover and I dream of a home in the USA that touches a wheat field (corn would be okay, too).

That grain being harvested is a reminder to me that my time here is going to come to a close. This may be the last time in my life that I have a field of grain in my own back yard. We will leave Italy in 2010, and the farmer won't likely plant winter wheat again this year.

It makes one ponder all the things to love (Title of a sweet, sweet book Jen and Jakob gave to Eli when he was born) and miss about this time of my life. Isn't it funny how the hardest things are often also the sweetest in some way (Isaac, for example) ?

To every thing there is a season . . . This has been the season of peaceful beauty, and discovering what is really important to me--what I want my kids to value . . . what I value most myself.

I have felt the power of nature--not in its ability to shake the earth, but in its ability to touch my heart and make me feel closer to our shared creator.

The wonder of empty branch, to budding branch, to blossoming branch, to branch heavy with fruit--all stages are fascinating and beautiful.

When I walk through orchards or passed fields with my boys, I easily bear testimony to them of a Divine Creator. I feel near to Him. In a time when the nearest temple is far away and I can't go as I would like, I am grateful for a peaceful, heavenly place to ponder, remember, and feel.

As I said, there is a season for everything, and after the harvesting of the grain comes many other beautiful things. The peaches and nectarines are ripe, and we can go pick them whenever we want--says Signor Sintoni . . .

the figs are getting bigger . . . the grape vines are full of sour green grapes (which Isaac seems to appreciate more than he should) . . .and the giuggioli are finally showing the tiny green dots that will be deep brown, nutty, mouth-popping fruit this fall. Promises of fig jam, grape juice, and snacking on those strange, crunchy giuggioli.

Yes, there is always something to look forward to in the next season.

Frankly, my boys cheered after the wheat was cut down because they remembered that soon Signor Sintoni will plow that field and it will become the most wonderous of wonderlands--huge clods of dirt with endless play-time possibilities.

Seasons of life, enjoy the one your in.