on luck, words, and dirt

Something small and amazing
happened in the last
twenty-four hours. 

I heard from a ranch,who last year
bought a weekly produce share
from me.

I had told them I would be charging more
this year for a produce share.
Quite a bit
more.

And then I hadn't heard
anything
for awhile.

But yesterday
they said yes,
yes please,
sign them up.
Because they value

what I do in the dirt
in the early cold mornings,
the late warm evenings,
with my kids, with my man;
the watering, thinning,
weeding, tending.
They said yes
to supporting my farm
for another year.

my farm, last summer

Does this mean
I'm a real farmer
now?

Then today
I heard from Mamalode
about my article.
They will be
paying me
for my writing.
397 people read
my words,
and the editor said
keep writing,
keep submitting.

Does this mean
I'm a real writer
now?




















Were there ever two vocations
I wanted more?  Both depend so

much on determination,
preserverence,
confidence, and
blind faith. 

But there is something
in either form of creation
that still feels unspeakable,
something like
magic.

If growing seedlings
and growing words is what I get
to do with this life
than I will remain amazed

and in awe
of my good luck.