Peppers and tomatoes--July--in Lasagna Garden
A THREAD OF LIGHT XXIII. February 23, 2014
Our climate may be
whimsical, but there are deeper
principles at work in the Universe.
Death is an ever-present reality, but
hardly the whole story. Plants teach us.
Trees hold seminars in survival.
Take in rain when it falls. Wait for
sun. Life turns emphatic: Grow!
To despair is to miss out on the rewards
of holding on, anticipating a resurgence
of the will to live and flourish,
to give one’s last strength to fruit.
–A Thread of Light III.
The trees hold still; the peepers continue
their jubilant, shrill song of resurrection.
Winter turned cruel; nearby woods were
ransacked for fat logs to sell, huge
limbs left for trash, which ultimately
feeds the soil should human beings
leave it alone. The first purple crocuses
lift their elegant heads, and the tree frogs
sing, not dismay but desire–all day, all
night. The heavy rain and wind, which
came to punish us, did not cut off their
cheerful voices. Sun again finds its
reason for being. Our garden moves
from dream to reality. Ana Maria says
I will have the best vegetables ever.
After cardboard to discourage weeds
and rabbit manure with fat earthworms,
we scatter straw, begin the next layer
of manure; then more straw and finally
manure to be topsoil and welcome seeds.
We, as well as the crocuses and peepers,
have outwitted winter and its savagery.
Ask only for what you truly need. Care
for those who care for you; then add
a couple more. Love multiplies its
boundaries like seeds do. The
Universe has its grain. Find it,
stick close, and be everything
you ever wanted to be
now and forever after.