This is the first time, I have sat down to take a breath. Though the Bluegrass Festival was over on Sunday, there was still lots of follow-up to do over the last three days. And on top of all the paperwork, budgeting, phone calls and let's not forget cleaning house, it has been a bit challenging. To top it all off Joe has pneumonia and it seems everything in the garden needs to be harvested, i.e. corn, beans, tomatoes, pumpkins, melons, potatoes, green peppers, basil, green onions and hot peppers. The Okra is looking pretty darn healthy as is the eggplant. You wouldn't know we staggered the plantings since everything seems to be coming in at once. So much for best laid plans. Like the all to true saying "Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans". However, I have one that I like even better. "A planned life can never be lived, it can only be endured". Which brings me to the subject of this newsletter.
I never imagined that I would end up in Michigan again, let alone on Harsens Island, let alone with a produce stand. The garden part I already had in place in Seattle. But the divine conspiracy that took place to get Joe and I here, is just too, well, divine. When living in Seattle, (we met there but both of us are from here), and after about 27 years of West Coast narcissism, I was ready to make another major move. I had some choices which included, the Rocky Mountains, the incredible Southwest (Flagstaff), or Florida. At the time, we were looking at places where Joe could work and I could continue with a singing career. This was eight years ago and the dot com world had come crashing down in Seattle crippling anyone that had anything to do with computers, which included Joe. Seattle is a very expensive place to live so if you don't have a decent job, then good fricking luck. Joe got an offer in Florida, off he went, while I packed up our wonderful little house, closed the garden, located a portable aquarium for our turtle, Howie, who now lives in the Greenhouse, tried to find drugs to knock out four cats who had to travel cross country, find a home for my parrot who hated everyone but me meaning I couldn't put Joe through that hell in a car as the bird continuously stalked him, and worst of all, put my old lab, Shebee the Love Dog to sleep. Just when I was selling the last of our belongings I got a call from Joe in Florida that the job had been downsized and he was let go. After coming out of shock, I told him to come home, we then drove cross country with our little zoo (by the way, none of them needed drugs, it was as if they were glad to make the trip), rekindling our sense of adventure.
Arriving in Detroit the winter of 2002 at my dad's house, was a little much for someone that was just turning 50, leaving me in shock. Starting over at 50! But I had no choice and decided to look at it as a mid-life adventure. The same way I do when I am going to plant something new, or try a new seed, or a new technique to make something grow faster and/or stronger. All I can tell you is that it is the best thing that ever happened to both of us. Within a year, Joe had a wonderful job, my new band and racked up 24 nominations for the Detroit Music Awards and my groups, Detroit Women and the Kate Hart band had been cited by the Metro Times as two of the influential groups in Detroit's Music History over the last 100 years. (We were included among many impressive names). My musical career only went up from there. Here I thought I was done with the whole "music is my career" thing, only to have life inform me that I just wasn't done, yet. It was as if I was the puppet and someone was pulling the strings. But the point is, I didn't plan it, but because I was and continue to be open to all possibilities, I was lucky to be present enough to fully experience all of these surprises while it was happening. I trusted the flow of life.
Now, I am at the precipice of another adventure. My challenge continues to be that I have enough energy and time to do it all. Some evenings Joe and I (and of course, Little B) sit on our porch swing that I found on the side of the road, painted different shades of pink by one of my voice students. Slowly rocking we listen to the crickets chirp as if they are thrilled that there is a garden that holds the same name. I marvel at the luck of the draw or, er...life's plan, on how we ended up here of all the places we could have gone. Not only is it beautiful, but Joe and I might actually be of some use to our community with the produce stand, the garden and now the Bluegrass Festival, becoming an annual event, with the proceeds providing help to those who need it. I had been looking for a charity or organization that I could be a part of or be useful to, and once again, life has dropped it in my lap.
There is a purpose for every living thing, but most of the time I don't know what it is, and I highly suspect that none of it is my business. What I am really here to do is experience life, which if I am really lucky, will teach me compassion. Maybe everything in this world isn't screwed up. Maybe there is perfection in all things, if I pay attention, live, and experience an unplanned life. And maybe just maybe when looking at the heartbreak that goes on in the world what is really behind it, is the beginning of us finding a new way to live. If that is true, then this could be the most exciting time to be living on this beautiful planet.
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