Go deeper into your faith.

Before I get to the good news, let me contextualize life these days.

Yesterday morning at 6:15 a.m. I was harvesting, with a flashlight, for CSA shares. I pulled shares of the winterbor kale which was spritely. When I turned the light onto the bok choi, I was surprised to find it frozen, solid. Yup, we had our first killing frost. I'd agreed to pull kale and bok choi but felt that harvesting frozen bok choi wasn't a good idea so I left a note for Ben and headed to the orchard.

On my way to the orchard I watched the temperature guage on the dash board. 29. 30. 34.

What were these numbers? Oh right. The outside temperature.

By the time I got to the orchard it was 40 degrees. And the sun was coming up so I knew that I'd be warmed up by 8:30.

This morning I woke up and it was a balmy 44 degrees out. But it was raining.

People pick apples with a much different attitude when it's raining and gray and cold outside. This morning there was a deep quiet. Only the sound of rain falling on the hood of my rain coat. The sound of my breath. The sight of my breath.

Kyle rushed through his bin. He left with an, "I'm done."

Laura, who approached me, looking all kinds of dejected and miserable, departed by saying, "I'm not dressed for this weather."

Wil and I remained. I finished Laura's bin and then sat in the Dodge waiting for Wil to complete his bin.

The Dodge has no traction whatsoever in the slightest amount of precipitation. It was an adventure as I zig-zagged the Dodge across many rows, sometimes driving in reverse, and just as we were almost in the clear -- ropes blocked our path. Wil held the rope up and I drove the truck under.

Wil asked me how my hands were. I told him that I'd alternated using them. Letting one thaw while the other froze. He said, "My thumb got numb and cramped and I couldn't hold onto an apple."

I remarked, "For a little bit there you weren't even a primate."

This year I lived "the Summer that never appeared," and now I fear that Fall is over and Winter is here. But what is Winter? Most of the leaves have fallen from the trees. The nighttime temp has hovered in the low-40s, dipping into the 30s. I don't think that Winter is snowfall. I think Winter is when it's so effing cold outside that neither man nor beast should be out of doors.

And yet... I finally had an insight. Yesterday morning as the lines from the Beatles song -- "Sun. Sun. Sun. Here it comes," were in my head and I thanked Goddess for the warmth, I discovered another piece of the puzzle.

I've realized that no matter what -- I'm delving deeper into my faith. As an athiest I often wonder what it means to have faith. I'm not sitting around imploring Jesus or God for Guidance. I'm usually puzzling things out in my head.

Several years ago my friend Eri and I were talking. We only came to be friends after September 11, 2001. Somthing about that event threw us into a friendship. (She was the person who got me the reference for my Jungian Dream analyst.) So. Eri and I were talking and she said, "I want someone to tell me that everything will be ok."

I paused and dearly wished that I could tell her that. For the next couple of years Eri and I continued to be freinds and then the friednship waned. During that time I worked on being able to say to her, "Eri. Everything will be ok." I could only say that to her if I meant it. She and I both knew that to say those words with a hollow ring was a waste of breath. I never spoke those words to her.

About 2 years ago I was able to own that sentence. And I've been living with that sentiment at my core for a while. Now I find that I want to go further. Beyond my gratitude. Beyond being able to rely on myself. Beyond my belief that things will be ok.

There is something else. There is more.

I'm starting to think this is tied up in love. A new kind of love. (A new kind of love for me.)

So this is where I'm at. Another piece of the puzzle found in the orchard.

"Go deeper into your faith."