After all the counting, selecting, planning,
making and firing of prayers, waiting, listening, cultivating of the Divine
Inner Garden, preparing the physical beds, raking in aged sheep poo, drawing
the rows and forming mounds, selecting and soaking seeds, waiting for and
watching the Grandmother Moon's progress, last frosts and finally with the
putting in of new plants and the dropping in of wordless hopes and silently
prayed over seeds, I am brought to release all of the effort and surrender to
the essential wildness of life, my life and the whole carefully tended
concept of thinking I knew even a little bit of what I was doing and what was
happening!
The blast of summer medicine has rocked my world
open to the vast and unknown potential that secretly or not so secretly, I
hope, dream and pray, will one day be restored, the liberty of the wild
creative love and innocence.
So, if the messages of nature are not listened
to, what will be listened to? The new will enter with all of the whole
correctness set to unfold, unfurl, reveal and return, moment to moment to
satisfy the original instructions and any other use of energy will risk
becoming a grave distraction and expenditure of energy. Attention and energy,
knowing the not known-ness of the evolved original face is the only worthy toil
of the farmers' Divine
Inner Garden,
now finding itself in form.
Grasshoppers, the bane of my farmer's life have
not appeared this year. I hesitate even to speak of it but if they are part of
the new myth...the stories of plagues, droughts, floods and other unavoidable
disappointments must be told. Their absence has opened up and relaxed all kinds
of other stories. Riotous stories. Laughter and song live in the rows this
year. Life and love have returned to the rows. I know goodness this year.
The Salad Days
....are upon us again. Tender lettuce leaves,
asparagus spears and early herbs, thrice washed, are already on the table. The
cantaloupe, cucumber, and blue corn seeds are sprouting. The heirloom tomatoes
are putting on their first blooms, the bok choy, hot chiles and sweet peppers,
squash and spring onions are stabilizing and strengthening. Wild things are
happening in the garden...each plant having its own look and way. The returning
arugula survivors are bolting early and preparing to phase out..others are
poised to take over. And I do mean take over. I am ever and increasingly aware
that the natural world is poised to over grow every inch of earth on this old,
eroded Cretaceous hill here in the Cross Timbers Country of Oklahoma upon which
my husband, two dogs and myself visit and live..as long as we might.
The night. The wind. I'm going to stay strictly
centered for the moment and drift with the atmosphere, attentive to the power
that is released when I listen and obey.
More later on the ' take over ' initiatives.
