Those of you who have read some of my previous blogposts are aware of my passion for the challenge of staying present and attentive. Perhaps my zeal for the topic exists since I am generally in need of improvement in that department. In any case, here is a little story of something that happened today along those lines.

Sandy and I tend a vegetable garden on a neighbor’s land. Our neighbor and her wife just had a baby, so they’re too busy to do any gardening — it’s just me and Sandy (and our dog) doing the work. We haven’t worked this garden since Sandy’s mom, a terrific gardener, died in May of 2015, and it’s good to be back at it. Our new stay-at-home existence, since the pandemic hit, means that, with the exception of the path behind the house where we walk the dog, the garden is the place to which we go more than any other. So it’s very familiar once again, like a friendship rekindled, and the visits are (we hope mutually) rewarding.

Have you ever picked fresh beans off a bean bush? It’s an exercise in paying attention. I could have sworn that I had picked one particular bush clean (of the beans big enough to be worth picking), and I turned the corner of the bean plot and started working my way around the next bush. It’s like what they say about studying the Talmud: if you haven’t seen the bean plant from at least 40 angles, you’re bound to miss something.