Local jewel

Yesterday I decided that I needed peat moss or potting soil to transplant some of the seedlings. I usually get my garden stuff from the local hardware store but I decided to walk to the local plant nursery that is a bit closer first. The only soil or peat moss that they have is much too big and heavy for me to handle. While I was there I wandered through their extensive assortment of plants. Lo and behold, they have French tarragon, Cherokee Purple tomatoes, Mortgage Lifter tomatoes, and miracle of miracles, Brandywine tomatoes.
I walked back home, deciding to await another day to get the supplies. Just after noon I lay down to take a nap. Sleep did not come as the thoughts of the tomatoes refused to go away.
Back I went to get some plants. They are two feet tall and cost about the same as the spindly dehydrated plants I orderd through the mail, when shipping charges are taken into consideration. Today I will transplant them to bigger pots. If fortune smiles on me I will head back for more plants of different varieties of vegetables and herbs. I still need peat moss and I will deal with that somehow.
I have been reading the works of some of the German philosophers. There is much there and many thoughts that I find confusing. Goethe and Kant and Schiller can keep me awake for a long time. Their reasoning seems clear but their conclusions go against thousands of years of human thought. They found a way to break the chains formed by Olympus but they didn't leave much room for solace or hope. Johnson's toe comes to mind. He found his rock in the middle of a tempest of views and clung to it through the storm.
While laboring over German thoughts, I began to think about the tyranny of vision. Of all the senses, vision seems to dominate our daily life. While lying in bed I tested this line of thought. I closed my eyes and allowed the other senses free rein. First I felt the gentle night breeze flowing through the window. Second I heard the night murmerings following them. Last, and most pleasantly, I smelled the lilacs that are blooming across the driveway. Peace came and so did slumber. The sense of taste will have to wait until the tomatoes are ripe.
There is a sense that has no path of input to the brain but resides there. It is the sense of joy. That sense came this morning when I read Shaun's post.