It seems a strange day, given the weather, for me to point out that summer is here in Beeville. But here it is!
Last weekend we went to the Amish market down the road. The red fruits of summer practically sparkled there in abundance. We bought some thinking we'd even purchased enough to last the week. Not one strawberry, nor a single tomato remained by end of day. We enjoyed the bright, fresh strawberries the Amish had grown on our ride home. We feasted on savory, juicy tomatoes at dinner. Ah, lycopene! It was divine!
Driving into town today, we passed a neighbor's thriving corn crop. The beginnings of the silken tassels were rising from the green! When the silk rises, you know summer has come. It has set the pulses of people here to bounding. It's hard for me to feel anything but happy out there in the sun.
Yet our high tomorrow is in the low 70's and we'll wake to temps in the 40's tomorrow. Huh.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
An open letter...
It
has not escaped my attention that many people have fiercely held
negative opinions about welfare recipients. Perhaps that is why we
waited through hard times of more than two years before we finally put
our heads up and marched bravely down to the HHSC to apply. I am nearly
ashamed to admit these views are certainly why I waited through four
months to reapply after our benefits ran out in March, despite losing
health insurance for our two kiddos for a time. We would submit to drug
testing if we had to, and I would submit to tubal ligation if that was
what I had to do to so that we would not have to worry as a family about
where our next meal was coming from. I wonder though, what good it does
our liberties as a nation, when we demand a few people give theirs up
for the privilege of eating. Though we have probably paid for the help
we are receiving now through the taxes we have paid in our combined 35
years of gainful employment, to all who are helping us to access medical
care for our children and put food on our table each day, I am
profoundly thankful. Thank you dearly, from the bottom of my heart.
My husband and I work 4 part-time jobs between us. We do other additional work when it’s available. We have two children (our son, who is 11, and our daughter, who has just celebrated her 6th birthday). We homeschool both because they deserve a better education than public school can offer. Last year, we made a combined income of $16,306. I am pleased to tell you that we do not qualify for TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families), because we earn too much money. We use our Lone Star Card ($120/week) to purchase a variety of fruits and vegetables, rice, beans, gluten free bread, tortilla chips, meat, eggs, milk, butter, coffee, and cream. We are blessed with a lot of help from our friends and family with utilities ($300/month), car insurance ($35/month), and mortgage (which we work for in barter). Since we keep ourselves and our kiddos healthy, we rarely have need of medical services. The children each visit the doctor perhaps once per year. My husband and I are uninsured and do not qualify for medicaid ourselves. For this I am also thankful. Medicaid only seems to serve adults who must make do with a much smaller income than we have, or have lots of medical problems.
I am not uneducated. I possess two degrees. I earned my B.A. in Psychology at the University of Texas at Austin. At our commencement exercises, we were privileged to hear a professional in the field cheerfully let us know that our degrees officially qualified us to say, “You want fries with that?” So, a few years later, I went to graduate school and earned my M.S. in Oriental Medicine. After graduation, I passed my national exams and applied for my acupuncture license from the Texas Board of Acupuncture Examiners. I am now a licensed acupuncturist and have maintained that status since 2007. I own and operate my own acupuncture clinic. I have regular clients. I do not charge a set rate. I believe that people should value the services (even medical!) that they receive based on merit, not based on a cost arbitrarily set by the provider. Also, I believe that care should be accessible for all.
In 2006, we moved from Austin, Texas. My husband had and was preparing to leave his seven-year job as a programmer. He was ready to begin his new career as a farmer. I had just graduated from the three-year program from which I earned my masters degree. Prior to that, I held part-time (during school) and full-time jobs in everything from clerical work to office management. My husband and I have both been working since we were sixteen years old. We purchased land with two houses (one to live in and one to house my clinic) in Beeville, Texas. We were fortunate enough to be able to sell our house in Round Rock in 2007, even while the real estate market was getting kind of rough. We chose Beeville because of the legendarily high rates of cancer in South Texas (the treatment of which I hope to ease for many people with my work) and the band of sandy-loam soil stretching across the region, perfect for my husband’s olive trees.
We have dreams of a bountiful olive orchard. We’ve already planted 300 trees. Someday we will have more than 2400 trees. We will produce our own successful brand of olive oil. We will hire employees for the farm and the clinic at livable wages ($15/hour). It will be three years before our first 100 trees will bear fruit. For now we nurture and tend the trees. We raise and teach our own children. I nurture and tend the people who come to me for pain relief, health, and wellness at my little acupuncture clinic. I work for a business my father is partner in, serving as a liaison in communication, and filing necessary reports with our state regulatory agencies. We serve as extra hands one day a week at our friends’ farm. My husband repairs computers, and is working as full partner, helping to program a newly formed game I can’t say much about. He is also about to partner in an L.L.C., becoming manager on an existing olive farm with 1500 nearly-mature olive trees. We’re very busy!
In short, we anticipate that our latest reliance on welfare will be a short one. I have no reason to whine. I have no excuses. Though I am frustrated that our choices have not yet made us financially wealthy, I do not regret them. I hope no one reading this ever feels that they have to choose public assistance in order to access health care or eat. However, I hope with even more vigor, that if that time ever arises, that person will have this safety net available. Blessings to you all. And again, thank you.
My husband and I work 4 part-time jobs between us. We do other additional work when it’s available. We have two children (our son, who is 11, and our daughter, who has just celebrated her 6th birthday). We homeschool both because they deserve a better education than public school can offer. Last year, we made a combined income of $16,306. I am pleased to tell you that we do not qualify for TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families), because we earn too much money. We use our Lone Star Card ($120/week) to purchase a variety of fruits and vegetables, rice, beans, gluten free bread, tortilla chips, meat, eggs, milk, butter, coffee, and cream. We are blessed with a lot of help from our friends and family with utilities ($300/month), car insurance ($35/month), and mortgage (which we work for in barter). Since we keep ourselves and our kiddos healthy, we rarely have need of medical services. The children each visit the doctor perhaps once per year. My husband and I are uninsured and do not qualify for medicaid ourselves. For this I am also thankful. Medicaid only seems to serve adults who must make do with a much smaller income than we have, or have lots of medical problems.
I am not uneducated. I possess two degrees. I earned my B.A. in Psychology at the University of Texas at Austin. At our commencement exercises, we were privileged to hear a professional in the field cheerfully let us know that our degrees officially qualified us to say, “You want fries with that?” So, a few years later, I went to graduate school and earned my M.S. in Oriental Medicine. After graduation, I passed my national exams and applied for my acupuncture license from the Texas Board of Acupuncture Examiners. I am now a licensed acupuncturist and have maintained that status since 2007. I own and operate my own acupuncture clinic. I have regular clients. I do not charge a set rate. I believe that people should value the services (even medical!) that they receive based on merit, not based on a cost arbitrarily set by the provider. Also, I believe that care should be accessible for all.
In 2006, we moved from Austin, Texas. My husband had and was preparing to leave his seven-year job as a programmer. He was ready to begin his new career as a farmer. I had just graduated from the three-year program from which I earned my masters degree. Prior to that, I held part-time (during school) and full-time jobs in everything from clerical work to office management. My husband and I have both been working since we were sixteen years old. We purchased land with two houses (one to live in and one to house my clinic) in Beeville, Texas. We were fortunate enough to be able to sell our house in Round Rock in 2007, even while the real estate market was getting kind of rough. We chose Beeville because of the legendarily high rates of cancer in South Texas (the treatment of which I hope to ease for many people with my work) and the band of sandy-loam soil stretching across the region, perfect for my husband’s olive trees.
We have dreams of a bountiful olive orchard. We’ve already planted 300 trees. Someday we will have more than 2400 trees. We will produce our own successful brand of olive oil. We will hire employees for the farm and the clinic at livable wages ($15/hour). It will be three years before our first 100 trees will bear fruit. For now we nurture and tend the trees. We raise and teach our own children. I nurture and tend the people who come to me for pain relief, health, and wellness at my little acupuncture clinic. I work for a business my father is partner in, serving as a liaison in communication, and filing necessary reports with our state regulatory agencies. We serve as extra hands one day a week at our friends’ farm. My husband repairs computers, and is working as full partner, helping to program a newly formed game I can’t say much about. He is also about to partner in an L.L.C., becoming manager on an existing olive farm with 1500 nearly-mature olive trees. We’re very busy!
In short, we anticipate that our latest reliance on welfare will be a short one. I have no reason to whine. I have no excuses. Though I am frustrated that our choices have not yet made us financially wealthy, I do not regret them. I hope no one reading this ever feels that they have to choose public assistance in order to access health care or eat. However, I hope with even more vigor, that if that time ever arises, that person will have this safety net available. Blessings to you all. And again, thank you.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Perhaps, the spirits of stones in their early days...
On our planet, 3.8 billion years ago, the rocks claimed their hardened forms from the fiery surface of the cooling lava and oceans rained down from the sky. There was much shifting from place to place, but relative quiet as the rocks made their home. The first tiny organisms formed of the protein and minerals in the seas. Their waters were rich with methane, sulfates, carbon dioxide, and nitrates. The tiny creatures grazed upon the rock on the ocean floor. The rock did not mind. The tiny creatures created tiny rocks that grew (if they were kept close enough together and the weather was just right) into new and pretty rocks. The rocks cultivated their little friends and grew beautiful rock gardens. They lived in peace together this way for nearly 500 million years. Then the first lifeforms that could generate energy by absorbing the light of the sun evolved among their anaerobic cousins. They did not need to munch on rock all day. And they did not create more tiny rocks. The new lifeforms created oxygen. In areas where too much oxygen accumulated, the rock gardens stopped growing, or even changed color. The oxygen killed the tiny creatures that lived upon the seawater and the rocks. The rocks were children of change and were not alarmed. They took up the oxygen, keeping the balance, harboring their tiny friends. This helped for quite some time. Very gradually, the iron in the rocks changed color and grew brittle. Soon the rocks at the surface of the sea floor grew softer and softer. The youngest volcanoes rumbled and pulled forth more iron-rich lava from the Earth up to the surface. The iron absorbed the oxygen. The volcanoes quieted. Satisfied that they had done all they could, they slept for 250 million years. Nothing could stop the sun-loving lifeforms. Over millions of years, they released so much oxygen that the rocks could not keep the balance anymore. They were full. The volcanoes were asleep. The oxygen began to congest the oceans and rise up into the sky. The tiny creatures who had pleased the rocks with their little rock gardens began to die until only those who had acclimated to the rising oxygen, or who had hidden deep in the Earth herself, survived. Between the silence of the volcanoes and the chemical mingling of the waste oxygen with the gasses high in the sky, a climate shift began.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
My Answer - Why don't I charge a set rate for acupuncture?
I don't generally talk about my life as an acupuncturist on my blog. However, I'd like to address a question I am frequently asked. I also like to explain the surprisingly controversial answer I give in response.
The question is simple: "How much do you charge?" Before people step one foot through my door, this is the most frequent question I am asked about acupuncture. My answer: "I do not charge a set rate. You decide how much each visit is worth and pay me accordingly."
My answer appears to make a number of people very uncomfortable. That is certainly not my aim. My aims are as follows: 1. I want to remove barriers between human beings and quality health care. 2. In an area where the average annual income is quite a bit lower than the average for Texas, charging a set rate might actually harm my business. 3. I support the pursuit of dreams, because it brings happiness and better health. 4. I want to be a responsible capitalist.
There are two barriers to quality health care that affect myself and many of my fellow South Texans: local availability and money. In answer, I have opened a clinic in Beeville, Texas. Here I work as a licensed acupuncturist while my husband grows an olive orchard and builds sustainable answers to energy consumption. If I refrain from charging a set rate, I keep acupuncture an affordable option for anyone.
The question is simple: "How much do you charge?" Before people step one foot through my door, this is the most frequent question I am asked about acupuncture. My answer: "I do not charge a set rate. You decide how much each visit is worth and pay me accordingly."
My answer appears to make a number of people very uncomfortable. That is certainly not my aim. My aims are as follows: 1. I want to remove barriers between human beings and quality health care. 2. In an area where the average annual income is quite a bit lower than the average for Texas, charging a set rate might actually harm my business. 3. I support the pursuit of dreams, because it brings happiness and better health. 4. I want to be a responsible capitalist.
There are two barriers to quality health care that affect myself and many of my fellow South Texans: local availability and money. In answer, I have opened a clinic in Beeville, Texas. Here I work as a licensed acupuncturist while my husband grows an olive orchard and builds sustainable answers to energy consumption. If I refrain from charging a set rate, I keep acupuncture an affordable option for anyone.
Bee county's median annual household income is less than $35,000/year. With rents and the cost of living on the rise, I feel that I need to remain flexible if I want to stay in business. Many medical professionals use sliding scale, but that's kind of a classist approach. Sliding scale tends to make some folks feel like they're being overcharged and other folks feel like they're getting lower quality service. And I don't want to know my clients' incomes.
It's safe to say we all know people who stay in jobs they hate for the health care benefits. We also all know someone who accepted a reduced rate of pay in exchange for better health insurance benefits. Ever shopped around for private health insurance? When you do, I hope the heavens are with you. Sadly, if you've had a chronic health problem in the last ten years, if you have a spouse, if you have children: you're going to have a very difficult time finding affordable health insurance - unless you have a job with a good benefits. I propose that we are happier, healthier people when we are free to pursue our dreams and do what we love. If we could do that and not have to worry about whether we could afford health care, probably more of us would. On the other hand, if you have learned to love your job with benefits, or your dream job comes with great benefits I am so truly happy for you! Salud.
It's safe to say we all know people who stay in jobs they hate for the health care benefits. We also all know someone who accepted a reduced rate of pay in exchange for better health insurance benefits. Ever shopped around for private health insurance? When you do, I hope the heavens are with you. Sadly, if you've had a chronic health problem in the last ten years, if you have a spouse, if you have children: you're going to have a very difficult time finding affordable health insurance - unless you have a job with a good benefits. I propose that we are happier, healthier people when we are free to pursue our dreams and do what we love. If we could do that and not have to worry about whether we could afford health care, probably more of us would. On the other hand, if you have learned to love your job with benefits, or your dream job comes with great benefits I am so truly happy for you! Salud.
Finally, and this is most important: I want to be absolutely certain that I serve my clients with the best possible combination of my knowledge, skills, and care. When my livelihood absolutely depends on it, there is no room in my clinic for shoddy, slightly lazy, or marginally unfriendly service. When I am at less than my best, I might get an instant pay-cut. I have to be at my best every single day! Asking my clients to choose my pay-rate is the pinnacle of responsible (and responsive) capitalism.
Bless you all. Have a happy, healthy day.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Remembering Oklahoma
Cold wind, gray sky, the dance of gold grasses practicing the heavens' choreography...
Trees, grow leaning, shake free their leaves gilded in the colors of fire.
They will crunch underfoot on red dirt with the sweet smell of autumn - if you can catch them with your feet as they scurry. Prairie sister, Mariah, stinging with frost, steals my breath. She, my constant companion and playmate, howls louder even than the queen of horseshoe hill. I visit the sand plum trees, now bare. I visit the wild strawberry patch, now hibernating. I visit the horse. He stands silent, warm, and gray as the sky. I gather pine cones on the way to the old barn. Barn creaks his warnings about rusty nails, and age, and certain death. Once again I leave before exploring.
When I lived in Oklahoma, the only inhabitants of the sky were clouds, lightening, rain, hail, and snow. I do not recall any memory of living birds until after I came back to Texas. Oklahoma was a good place to watch lightening storms, tornados, hot-air balloons, and brave pilots.
Trees, grow leaning, shake free their leaves gilded in the colors of fire.
They will crunch underfoot on red dirt with the sweet smell of autumn - if you can catch them with your feet as they scurry. Prairie sister, Mariah, stinging with frost, steals my breath. She, my constant companion and playmate, howls louder even than the queen of horseshoe hill. I visit the sand plum trees, now bare. I visit the wild strawberry patch, now hibernating. I visit the horse. He stands silent, warm, and gray as the sky. I gather pine cones on the way to the old barn. Barn creaks his warnings about rusty nails, and age, and certain death. Once again I leave before exploring.
When I lived in Oklahoma, the only inhabitants of the sky were clouds, lightening, rain, hail, and snow. I do not recall any memory of living birds until after I came back to Texas. Oklahoma was a good place to watch lightening storms, tornados, hot-air balloons, and brave pilots.
Friday, June 18, 2010
first blessings
A kiss from my love. The songs of a dove.
Coffee on my toeses. Grounds to the roses.
Sipping from a bitter cup. Water to a thirsty pup.
Morning star is on her course. Velvet nuzzlings from nose of horse.
Son is walking as we are talking.
Baby girl and cats at play. This is how I begin my day.
Coffee on my toeses. Grounds to the roses.
Sipping from a bitter cup. Water to a thirsty pup.
Morning star is on her course. Velvet nuzzlings from nose of horse.
Son is walking as we are talking.
Baby girl and cats at play. This is how I begin my day.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
beginnings of the plunge - not complete
There were no bags to pack when Arch-Angel Michael descended again from heaven to more closely experience humanity and their coping mechanisms for free will. Each trip had brought him an opulence of insight and new emotions, though he'd kept his visits short.
Choice was something angels had to overcome, a collective disability. It had been centuries since God had simply stopped speaking to His angels. When they implored Him for some direction, He smiled lovingly, wordlessly. He touched their faces and sat with His long-time companions in silence. When His every word was their command, how else could He give His servants free will? There was some disquietude. Freedom is seldom comfortable at first.
That was when angels began to walk among humans as students instead of messengers. Humans had enjoyed free will for longer than human history could describe. While they collectively did not always make the best choices, humanity possessed a tremendous capacity for joy, love, and learning. They had integrated freedom as part of every action, if not every breath. Even those in cultures or nations where choices were restricted could still choose if they were willing to accept the dire consequences for their illicit actions.
Also, because God would not command humans with his voice, He still spoke to them. The angels craved His guidance, even if they had to get it second hand.
Michael chose his form: this time a young high-school student in the United States, to begin this human life as "Michael Smith". Michael wasn't terrific at lying. He had not really managed to do so successfully even once. When asked where he'd come from and who he was, he had always answered truthfully. He'd learned on previous visits that the older the form he took, the less complicated his identity would be. Humans had little difficulty with an old man insisting he was the Arch Angel Michael. He'd visited as an old man many times. Excepting the time he'd taken up residence next door to a house of Satanists who took the matter of his name and title rather personally, he was mostly ignored. If one was observing humanity, ignored was a perfect state.
Though honesty about Michael's background had been mostly uncomplicated as an old man, middle-aged men who claimed to be angels at all were another story. If his personal history came up at all, it was a conversation killer. Even if he wasn't terribly specific about which angel he was, his companion would often change seats or even cars on the train. Middle-aged Michael had been a lonely existence. By then he'd been aiming for a more interactive learning experience. He feared that he'd have to lie about who he was if he wanted to pursue an active role in human life.
This time he wasn't going for uncomplicated. He wanted public education and a job. He submitted his adolescence to foster care, thinking it would be easier than answering questions about his origins. "I suffered a fall," he said. The authorities assumed he had a head injury - especially if he gave them details.
Choice was something angels had to overcome, a collective disability. It had been centuries since God had simply stopped speaking to His angels. When they implored Him for some direction, He smiled lovingly, wordlessly. He touched their faces and sat with His long-time companions in silence. When His every word was their command, how else could He give His servants free will? There was some disquietude. Freedom is seldom comfortable at first.
That was when angels began to walk among humans as students instead of messengers. Humans had enjoyed free will for longer than human history could describe. While they collectively did not always make the best choices, humanity possessed a tremendous capacity for joy, love, and learning. They had integrated freedom as part of every action, if not every breath. Even those in cultures or nations where choices were restricted could still choose if they were willing to accept the dire consequences for their illicit actions.
Also, because God would not command humans with his voice, He still spoke to them. The angels craved His guidance, even if they had to get it second hand.
Michael chose his form: this time a young high-school student in the United States, to begin this human life as "Michael Smith". Michael wasn't terrific at lying. He had not really managed to do so successfully even once. When asked where he'd come from and who he was, he had always answered truthfully. He'd learned on previous visits that the older the form he took, the less complicated his identity would be. Humans had little difficulty with an old man insisting he was the Arch Angel Michael. He'd visited as an old man many times. Excepting the time he'd taken up residence next door to a house of Satanists who took the matter of his name and title rather personally, he was mostly ignored. If one was observing humanity, ignored was a perfect state.
Though honesty about Michael's background had been mostly uncomplicated as an old man, middle-aged men who claimed to be angels at all were another story. If his personal history came up at all, it was a conversation killer. Even if he wasn't terribly specific about which angel he was, his companion would often change seats or even cars on the train. Middle-aged Michael had been a lonely existence. By then he'd been aiming for a more interactive learning experience. He feared that he'd have to lie about who he was if he wanted to pursue an active role in human life.
This time he wasn't going for uncomplicated. He wanted public education and a job. He submitted his adolescence to foster care, thinking it would be easier than answering questions about his origins. "I suffered a fall," he said. The authorities assumed he had a head injury - especially if he gave them details.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
our new heaven
I find myself feeling the shy customer at the coffeehouse, like I'm not supposed to be among the super-cool. I'm just visiting, that's clear. I've got my toddler in tow. Really, she doesn't want to be here. Her fidgeting gives expression to my own inward wiggling. I order coffee arabica: black, thanks. I feel a little proud at my plain-seeming preference. I feel like, "Yeah, I know I could have a mocha latte, but I really DO just want a regular cup of joe. Don't hold the caffeine." I only feel a little foolish that I'm paying $2.00 for it.
I don't live in this town anymore: The Live Music Capital of the World. How I miss it, live music on a Tuesday night over ribs. After dinners of ginger pancakes, my love and I shared ice cream made with beer. Sunday mornings meant three miles 'round Town Lake with my best friend. My nostalgia makes my eyes burn. I love Austin, Texas. She was my savior. How could I love her AND leave her?
Olive trees. That's why we left. And goats. Property taxes are too high in Austin to make either dream possible for us. We bought the farm in '05 and hill-billied it to our new heaven as soon as I graduated, a Master of Oriental Medicine in '06. I was awarded my acupuncture license in '07 and we opened Beeville Acupuncture & Herbs in a converted one-room schoolhouse in the autumn of '08. Mike finally bought our olive trees this year. An economy like this one can kill dreamers, or their dreams. We and ours remain.
I wanted to name the clinic, "Prickly Pear Acupuncture." That name still tickles my heart. I felt though that it reminded one too much of the possibility that MY needles, thinner than a cat's whisker, might hurt. Instead I chose to pledge my allegiance to Beeville. I made this choice on faith, before I knew our new home. It was not a mistake. We are comfortable here. If I wave, folks wave back, even if we've never spoken. I often forget and wave to folks in Austin, when I visit. I am reminded then that friendly is sometimes misinterpreted as crazy.
At home, the coastal breeze in the afternoon rushes through the anaqua trees on the south side of the house. The soft perfume of their blossoms often intoxicates me past caring about the finances, or the nearly incessant tending to the animals, landscaping, kiddos, clinic, and all of the maintenance-related quirks of a centenarian farm house. I think we should name the olive farm after the anaqua somehow. They preserve me. Twice a year their scent can stop me and anchor me in meditative splendor. It is enough. Sometimes I tell people, "We are money-poor, but we are wild-flower rich." The anaqua are part of this wealth: the wealth of wild-flowers. It is such a blessing that in those moments we have enough.
I don't live in this town anymore: The Live Music Capital of the World. How I miss it, live music on a Tuesday night over ribs. After dinners of ginger pancakes, my love and I shared ice cream made with beer. Sunday mornings meant three miles 'round Town Lake with my best friend. My nostalgia makes my eyes burn. I love Austin, Texas. She was my savior. How could I love her AND leave her?
Olive trees. That's why we left. And goats. Property taxes are too high in Austin to make either dream possible for us. We bought the farm in '05 and hill-billied it to our new heaven as soon as I graduated, a Master of Oriental Medicine in '06. I was awarded my acupuncture license in '07 and we opened Beeville Acupuncture & Herbs in a converted one-room schoolhouse in the autumn of '08. Mike finally bought our olive trees this year. An economy like this one can kill dreamers, or their dreams. We and ours remain.
I wanted to name the clinic, "Prickly Pear Acupuncture." That name still tickles my heart. I felt though that it reminded one too much of the possibility that MY needles, thinner than a cat's whisker, might hurt. Instead I chose to pledge my allegiance to Beeville. I made this choice on faith, before I knew our new home. It was not a mistake. We are comfortable here. If I wave, folks wave back, even if we've never spoken. I often forget and wave to folks in Austin, when I visit. I am reminded then that friendly is sometimes misinterpreted as crazy.
At home, the coastal breeze in the afternoon rushes through the anaqua trees on the south side of the house. The soft perfume of their blossoms often intoxicates me past caring about the finances, or the nearly incessant tending to the animals, landscaping, kiddos, clinic, and all of the maintenance-related quirks of a centenarian farm house. I think we should name the olive farm after the anaqua somehow. They preserve me. Twice a year their scent can stop me and anchor me in meditative splendor. It is enough. Sometimes I tell people, "We are money-poor, but we are wild-flower rich." The anaqua are part of this wealth: the wealth of wild-flowers. It is such a blessing that in those moments we have enough.
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