A Perfect Day

There are some days that are just made for playing hooky, and Thursday was one of them. The sun was out, it's spring in Kentucky and the temperature was a steady 67-degrees. I had an artist friend of mine who offered to show me the way to a place called Sunflower Sundries, run by Jim and Jennifer Gleason, and I had always wanted to visit. I mean, I've lived here four years, and haven't been out there even once. It was the perfect day for it.

Grabbed the camera, grabbed the keys and that was that. 

The minute I drove up the road to the farm, I knew my heart was just going to burst with good vibrations. Three lovely pups greeted me like I was an old friend, and there were chickens - nice, fat happy chickens - running all over the place. Happy animals and a happy, sunny yellow door on the small gift shop where this marvelous woman named Jennifer makes her own soaps and grinds freshly dried corn in a small electric mill. I'm greeted with a smile and a welcome hug, and the smells of scrumptious soaps filled the air. I've made my share of soap, but this stuff is like gold (I ended up with a bar of the Rose Geranium and it is hard-milled and leaves your skin feeling like it just woke up from a long sleep).

I roamed around with Jennifer while my artist pal, Ken, took off on a canoe trip with her husband, Jim. We talked about all the wonderful things she's growing in the garden, from the fresh sprouts of asparagus to gooseberry bushes, from which she gleans the fruits and makes the tastiest jams. We talked about a curious weed called Henbit, which she allows to grow wild because the bees like it. This woman is a true child of nature, accepting of the wild things in life and allowing their souls to prosper. She fretted a bit about the chickens, who are as free-range as it gets. She protects the growing plants with pruned gooseberry branches and bits of cattle fencing. On and on she went, naming every shrub and plant - a woman very proud of her blessed life and everything in it.

She offered me herbal tea, while she made some labels for her new batch of hot garlic mustard. I had shot photos of everything from old glass jugs to corn shucks in burlap bags. She asked if I could help her jar some mustard in the cellar, and I jumped at the chance. She showed me how she prepared the mustard from organic seeds, garlic and horseradish and she spooned the mixture into jars, while I screwed on the lids and applied the labels.

This one solitary visit brought me back to my own childhood, watching Dad prepare huge pots of pear preserves and strawberry jams, made from fruits from our own garden. I remember picking baskets and baskets of green beans, limas and peas, tomatoes and corn for Mom and Dad to can for our pantry. In the middle of winter, we always had vegetables from the seasons before. We had chickens, too, and I can still smell the hay in the roost and feel the warmth of the eggs as I gathered them. 

It was time to go when Ken and Jim got back, and I left with a half jar of that wonderful mustard, a pound of cornmeal (which Jennifer ground just for me) and a killer recipe for cornbread, a dozen fresh eggs (some from araucuna chickens, which have those lovely greenish-blue eggs) and a bar of Rose Geranium soap. My heart was full, my soul revived and my life forces kick-started. 

There are places in my life that I have been that I want to revisit, and this is one of them. As Ken so succinctly put it, "this woman is a living treasure," and I heartily agree. She calmed my anxiety with her friendliness and welcomed me into her home and her life without reproach. She allowed me a day in her world, which is sunny yellow and full of love from every corner. She works hard, sometimes too hard, but it's a good kind of work. As I left, I picked up a map back to her farm, just in case I couldn't figure out my way back.

Take a look at her website: www.sunflowersundries.com