Editorial July 18, 1988 Issue

Interior landscapes

Allison W. Phinney, Jr.

A Christmas newsletter last year brought us up to date on some friends' activities. They wrote: "January found us working in the woods, training two-and-one-half-year-old Emma to pull the bobsled with her mother, Shanti. We cut mainly the area east of the cedar swamp, north of the road to the seed field."

They added, "It was June 1st when the 2 acres of pumpkins and squash were planted, but the summer warmed up beautifully, and before long we were rewarded with the sight of long straight rows of bright green sprouts. The white snow of winter and rich brown of spring soil had once again given way to the tumultuous green of summer."

I read through the chronicle of my friends' year several times to understand why it seemed so special. Finally I could see that what was illumining the outward descriptions was a particularly appealing point of view. For many people, the unending rounds of developing a farm would have been sheer drudgery. But for these friends a love of the land, of each other, and of the light of Being was changing everything. It was a rich interior life that was making all the difference.

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