Mornings are the time of the day when I walk the farm.  I usually do this with shears in hand, looking for thistles about to bloom or to check on the elderberries hoping that this will be the year for me to beat the birds and get some jam and wine made.  I look over all the animals under my care and settle my heart that is all well with them.  I let my feet stir as much of the grass as possible and I thank God for the food for the flocks and herds, and for us. 

This is my turning time.  I quiet my heart and turn to God to remember the truth.  The land whispers to me and reminds me that I can do nothing.  I can not grow the grass, I can not create microbes, I can not call forth the beetles to move nutrients deep into places my eyes can not see. It whispers to me “O foolish woman, there is but two things that you can do, but do not.  Love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself.” 
I can pretend to do things, to make things happen, to affect change, and I can run and busy myself with all my “to-do” lists and important duties but it is all in vain.  An illusion really.  I am sure there are many things that remind us of this truth but for me, the land speaks the loudest.  Nature, in all of her complexities and beauty humbles me and in silent obedience
 I stop and turn and peace settles on me as soothingly as a silk shawl and only then am I ready for the day.