I love the idea of abundance. And who wouldn’t? Except an abundance of cockroaches or spiders maybe. Wait, the idea of abundance and the word except and but don’t belong together, do they?
A friend gave me a basket of chandelier sparklies. It’s enough to abundantly drape one large chandelier. Now where will I get one of those?
As much as it would abundantly drape that chandelier, it’s truly an abundance of sparkly earrings. I can use them wildly on my own chandelier or I can make an abundance of pairs of sparkly earrings to share. I think that’s what abundance means to me. . . enough to share. . . freely. . . joyfully. . . lavishly, like Santa Claus, without wondering if you left enough behind.
Gardens mean abundance to me. And since my small garden doesn’t grow enough of anything but cayennes to give away, I cheat and buy boxes of tomatoes at the local farm stand. And share. Abundantly. The people who get them don’t really care that they didn’t come directly to them from my garden, as long as they are the incredible summer tomatoes that they are.
So, abundant summer tomatoes . . .and zucchini.
Or maybe zucchini is a plague.