I had the pleasure of catering for a dear friends birthday party last weekend at her home in Lone Butte. It was a sweet Sunday afternoon; music drifting through open doors, tables tucked into the landscape, joyful dancing and song, conversations between young and old. I left feeling full in both belly and in spirit, with renewed reverence for the high desert and its creative inhabitants.
Balabusta
Her hands covered in sticky dough
Kneading over and over
Pouring herself into the gluten
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Flurry of paper
Shifting the stacks
Keeping things tidy
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Animals calling
She fills their water
Throwing them hay
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Cutting blooms
Armfuls of flowers
Brightening every room
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Baby to breast
Attached at the hip
Her heart beats for him
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Homemaking
Core to her being
Part of her internal landscape
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If she stops being in service
Is she still
Deserving of love?