“Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”

19 April 2009

"...reconnecting with what is subtle and profound in nature can take some of the burning out of our souls."



the weather warmer, i braved the back forty to face the supposed seed graveyard. but there were some radish coming up, some spinach, some lettuce, some chard. even some pea sprouts pushing through dandelion overthrow. i shortened the rows from where the digging started and pulled up everything around the peas that werent peas. replanted in the bare patches and watered. the rest needs another tilling but theres manure coming on tuesday and until then ill dig weeds so i dont just till them into a billion clone minions.



we had the birthday i promised him, legos and fast food, a spontaneous trip to the theatre to see monsters vs. aliens which i found enormously validating. in all the old disney films it wasnt a happy ending until the princess got her man. in these new movies the freak is happy, proud, self-fulfilled. even insectasaurus finds new life as a luna moth. take that, prince ego-vortex charming.



i got the first wax of the season. sara and i talked dogs while she slathered my nether regions in hot wax and summarily tore my pubic hair out.



i dont think it will snow again for the summer. the nasturtium are so healthy i may have to move them upstairs. the tomato plants poke up, i replanted what didnt germinate. maybe a heat pad next year for the peppers and tomtatoes. my misters busted already and i may be dislodging little seed beds with careless watering, guttering the water through my fingers from the dousing spout. in a few weeks i can plant a few things out, hardy enough, the lettuces and parsley, broccoli and collards. ive learned important lessons in gardening.



and i think life is a learning experience. and its how you respond to the challenges and the blessings, how you learn to create space for the better and reduce the wrecking ball tangos youre forced to endure.

29 of 365:

1. my bikes back from the mennonite.
2. healthy food.
3. successful plant propagation.
4. i still live here.
5. spring is in full swing.
6. brushwood looks like a go this year.
7. living in a rural area.
8. hanging out with #4, and the yoda lego.
9. books.

1 comment:

  1. Suzie DeGrasse19 April, 2009

    re: #6; and this year will be the first I do not go.

    ReplyDelete

Blessed Be.

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"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.

For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.

"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." -V.V.G.

"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.

"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.

"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)