what's on my mind #3

a letter about wintering, attention, and freedom

Dear friend,

In March, M and I steered our sleepy selves into the the centre of his coffee estate, where the silver oaks grew closer together and the sunlight, streaming uninhibitedly everywhere else, fought to pierce the canopy and reach the soil. All morning we traipsed through the gaps between trunks, stopping to trim saplings (him) and rub palms against time-stained bark (me). As far as coffee-growing went, I knew nothing, and gladly so — it allowed me to ask questions and experience the world around me with a curiosity I’d last experienced as a child.