The eastern horizon is pinking-up here in central Connecticut with sunrise only twenty-three minutes from the writing of this sentence. Luna is begging to go outside to chase some bunny or squirrel with the temerity to be crossing her land; she is an impressive and deadly hunter of small mammals, and there is enough carnage in the world, so I shook my head, and she shook her body, and went off to see where the cat is, instead.
Today will be the only sunny day of the week until Saturday. At this time of year clear skies and sunshine are often accompanied by cold temperatures and wind. That will be the case both days this week. If I get outside to work at all, I will be bundled up.
We are having two trees taken down today. I feel the way I feel when I have had to euthanize a pet: just terrible. I don’t take any life (except for fleas, ticks and mosquitos) without conscience. When seedlings or saplings appear in my gardens I do my best to dig them up, plant them on, or pot them up, and share them at the “Free Little Garden Shop” (think Free Little Library, except with plants instead of books.) I set this little garden shop up in the front garden beside the sidewalk last year and will keep on this year. Right now I have several chestnut trees, a chokecherry, and a young oak already in pots, and ready to be put up for adoption as soon as they break dormancy in April. The two trees destined to become firewood, which I am glad are also still dormant, are about fifteen years old I would guess; maybe twenty. They grew along an untended fence line, and I would leave them there forever if they weren’t shading out the elderberries and cherry tree, and just beginning to shade the greenhouse. I am an un-ruthless (maybe ruth-full?) gardener.
I have many more seedlings and baby-plants to still to dig up, divide, and pot on: a couple of chestnut saplings; many thornless blackberries; lots of rhubarb; lots of comfrey, too. The air will be cold this week, but the ground is soft and workable, so it is a good time to do heavy work like digging and turning the compost (which I have finished for now.)
I also need to get some seed started in the greenhouse now that night temperatures are not falling into the teens and single digits. There is much to do.
There is always much to do, and I am very good at getting things done, yet I am changing as I age. I am becoming less task-oriented and more presence-oriented as I grow into my elder-hood.
I don’t work in the garden anymore; I go-to and am-in the garden: listening, nurturing, encouraging, respecting, giving, and receiving. I am the same way when I am with my grandchildren, adult children, partner, friends, and other beloveds. I practice “being with,” lest I behave like the busy and self-important priest and Levite from the wisdom story we call “The Good Samaritan.” (Luke 10: 30-37)
Presence is a practice for me, especially when I/we carry distraction devices around with me/us everywhere. Especially when we prefer entertaining distraction to feeling our feelings, and facing our own stuff and shadow.
Presence is an act of resistance to empire and violence right up there with growing food, developing alternative economies, building community, protesting injustice, and working for justice. Actually, I think presence is the root of sustainable, resilient, and regenerative change.
May we be present to ourselves, to one another, and to the world. May we grow deep and tall, strong and flexible, life-giving and shelter-providing. May it be so.
Courage my dears. Love one another.
