So many years that we have been together. I do not count her as a lover. She is love itself. And still each time I see her, she takes my breath away. It is not so much her beauty but her presence. And her giggle, of course.
In this season we all indulge her in her contact with the ground. This year, we will not grow so many new things. A few, but the time is limited. Next year, when this young son of the flesh is able to toddle about the grass, and to wear the sun screen she will have more time. But even this year, I love to watch her as she reaches her hands into the dirt. It is pure connection. Her woods are the sort which produce berries and materials for a dwelling, clearings for a garden.
With the scent of the earth on her hands, I press her against the ground and smother her giggle with kisses.