In serving the Fellowship this last year, I’ve become very familiar with the drive up the 5 freeway, from Santa Clarita north through the Angeles forest, over the peak at Gorman, through the Grapevine, and dropping down into the San Joaquin Valley.

Back in December the hills were covered in snow.  One day driving back I had to spend an extra night at a hotel at the base of the Grapevine because the conditions were too bad for my little car.  A month or so later, the snow had melted and the hills were covered in green and gold with mustard and other wildflowers.  Lately the flowers and grass have dried to a camel-color, still more yellow than brown.  Some hills are nearly bare.  Other hills are green with juniper.  This last Sunday as I drove home after the service there was a small wildfire on a hill on the right side of the road being attended to by several emergency workers with trucks and equipment.

I have loved this regular opportunity to check-in with the same hills and watch them slowly shift their adornment with the seasons.  I notice I still have memory of winter as we come close to summer.  It feels as though the seasons are alive in me.  I drove home several weeks ago with a couple of tomato plants I gave to a friend and more recently with a box full of cherry tomatoes (gorgeous, orange, and sweet), grown in a frontyard.  I feel the earth made alive by the cycle of snow and sun, growth, flourishing, and dying back.  I feel the connection in my own body, to my own life, to time passing, and to the varying beauty that comes with each new day.  Each day a container of life, a new revelation of awe.