The November chill is creeping in and my potager, along with its generous tenants of chard, beans, and eggplant, is no longer hospitable. It’s growing quiet and it’s beds are turned down, week by week. The boys and I gather armfuls of the past few months, and let them go to the bin in the side yard. Winter is coming. And, I am thankful for its quiet reminder: What is dead must be hauled away for new life to come again. I’ll just say it– I wish it was always green, always vibrant, always in bloom. Who doesn’t love a vine LADEN with fruit? Who doesn’t crave foliage that announces deep nourished roots? Who doesn’t long for sunshine on her face, and never the chill of winter? “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have […]