on thoughts of lemons

Ahh, the smell of lemon tea mixed with ginger ...te de limon mezclado con un poco del gengibre... reminds me of smell of blossoms of rose ...I will need to check more into my godmother's small garden plot when I return home.

Since I will be cutting down on my foodstuff items that I buy from the store, until I can learn better where they come from, I had better make a list of what I will allow myself to buy from now on. I was going to write how sad it will be to farewell to gengibre ...but on third thought, I'd better hold onto my precious gengibre. It is a marvelous curer to many of my ailments - the prominent being depression. *sighs* I hear that 'depression' does not exist. I wonder, then- what else do you call it when someone has been moored, separated, from her home? For my soul need not rest, until it returns to the place where once it sailed, free, as the opaque dawn across an ocean.

I sing of the sea. I taste of ocean, I smell of seawaves, of swell - of the tides that span many thousands of miles, endless to the rising and setting of our Sun. Impervious to human plights, human concerns ...free form, bounded only by the continents on either side, floating, reflection of all lost in its gaze. Supporting the hawks who bear their clairvoyance high on the thermals above...

I am homesick.

And it is time to go. 0800. Time is calling. Time is fleeting. Tempus fugit. Cuidate!

~Yvea