We took a picnic to our favorite spot last evening. Down under the great Hickory’s and ancient White Oaks bordering the East side of our property is the softest grass. It’s short and fine with patches of velvety moss scattered here and there. Picnic blanket not needed. Acorns lie strewn across the ground, a half eaten feast left for the mice, raccoons, opossums, red-tailed fox, deer, wild turkey and squirrel. Hungry for dinner yet not wanting to waste time in the kitchen, we packed peanut butter and honey, times several, and walked down to sit amongst the trees in the fading sun of a brilliant day. We hunted for treasure and found a snake, we laughed at the baby and walked through the fort in the woods, we searched for matching acorn tops and bottoms and had an acorn war.
This is a season of hunger for me. Figuratively and literally. We work and play hard all day, much of it outside. It feels good to work to the point of hunger. To earn it. Every bite. But there’s also a hunger in my bones that goes beyond what food can satisfy. A ravenousness for longer walks, deeper knowledge, to feel my muscles ache from use. To use every minute of each splendid day wisely. To experience limitless connection with my family, profound conversation and fierce emotions. To dive deep into new projects and resurrect the old ones.
This hunger. Of course, there are only 24 hours in a day…
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.