Hello, everyone --

If you're not in Minnesota, you might be surprised to hear that just last week we got down to 34 degrees. Thankfully, I was advised to cover the plants that I very publicly planted in the front yard on Mother's Day -- a tradition my family has brought back with us from southwest Washington.

In Minnesota, this is premature, and I've now been schooled by my new neighbors, old friends, family, passersby and Mother Nature.

I'm happy to report, though, that when I lifted up the old blue sheets that I'd saved years for this purpose (and moved from house to house to house) but never needed in Washington, my tomatoes, eggplants, zucchini, radishes, green onions, sunflowers and zinnias looked just like they did pre-34 degrees ... and I think the radishes were showing a bit of swagger. They're so hardy.*
In other news, I wrote you a blog post. This was an accident. It started out as a message for "The Same Loon" but then grew into something melancholy and hopeful ... and I kept adding onto it, mixing in memories of spring leaves and driving in Japan, disciples looking like Ascension Day sunflowers, a quote by Brené Brown, masks and unmasking, and lots of photos of spring in my neighborhood.

Yes, I totally went for it, but it was way too long to share here. And to be perfectly honest, at this moment, on a sunny Wednesday with forecasts of 100-degree temperatures by Friday, I really just want to say hello and wish you well.

Take good care,

*You might wonder why the photo appears to show a chaotic mess of radishes growing on mound ... and why some look like zucchini plants. I don't want to get total mission creep here, because I am (clearly) no master gardener, but what you are seeing is a co-planting of radishes and zucchini. We create a mound for the zucchini (so we can fit more plants in less space -- one or two to the north and one or two to the south ... and maybe one to the west, because I can't stand tossing out a healthy plant start). We then plant radishes all over the mound. The radishes are ready to harvest before the zucchini plants really take off, so all plants are happy! At least it worked that way in Washington ... 

Turkey update: the hunter

The turkey situation has calmed down here -- but not without some minor drama, which I shared on my blog mid-month. You can find it here, in case you're interested.

Screenshot travels

I used to talk about seeing the world through my windshield, but over the past year, I've seen quite a bit of it through my laptop screen.

Some of my travels have been thanks to The Same Moon, which has taken me online to visit with book groups in five states so far: Washington, Oregon, Minnesota, North Dakota and, most recently, Colorado!

I'm thankful to all of you who have invited me into your conversations!

You can visit my book group page here.

And here are my two most recent groups (linked to related posts):
Colorado book club: "My brief paean to technology -- and book clubs" 
St. Olaf book club: "Um yah yeah, I'm home" 

Today's writing prompt

Yesterday, I got back on the horse. Not a real horse but back on the horse of my old life ... pre-pandemic, pre-move-from-Washington life: I taught Holy Yoga, live and in-person.

Out of an abundance of caution (what other kind of caution is there these days?), we practiced outside, eight of us. 

Full disclosure -- beforehand, I was nervous. Would anyone show up? Would my teaching plan be yoga level-appropriate? Would I remember how to cue people into positions? Would the message I wanted to share resonate?

The only thing I didn't worry about was the weather. 

And then, of course, the only thing that went sideways was the weather. Clouds ... sprinkles ... and then all-out rain.  

Our mats sank into the lawn, water puddling around our feet, and yet we continued, chuckling, enduring. 

By the end of our practice, the rain ended, and as we wrapped up, we received our reward: a double rainbow.

Encouragement to continue. 

Here's the prompt: Is there an area of your life that you are now reclaiming? What does that look like? What does that feel like? Sound like? Taste like?

(And if you're in the Fargo-Moorhead area, come join us -- Tuesdays at 6 pm. Details here.)

Thank you for your interest in The Same Moon and sharing stories! You are welcome to share this email with others who might be interested.

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Copyright © 2021 Sarah Coomber -- writer, All rights reserved.

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