So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.

Herman Hesse

Yesterday at the farmers market there were the most beautiful purple and yellow and green-green beans. I remembered how long it took to pick them out in the fields last summer, sitting on the overturned red pony and searching among the tendrils. It was a always a race to see who could move down the row the fastest, except when it wasn’t because we wanted to talk and tell stories. We would never finish picking all in one afternoon. We left our red make-shift seats out in the field overnight to mark our place for the next day. 

Recipe gathering: Spicy Garlic Green Beans