Maple Arrows

Maple Arrows

 

As arrows shot from a volley of archers

towards an unseen foe

land in unison

arrowheads imbedded in ground

with shafts all at the same angle

littering the ground,

 

So do maple trees shoot their seed-pods

in spring to impregnate the soil

as seed heads are driven deep

the dried shafts – their job done,

cover the earth.

 

In fall the seed pods are double-winged

each a Siamese twin

Over winter they dry

                        prepare

for spring breezes to separate the twins

and implant each one

to provide for new seedlings.

 

Not death, but life, comes from this volley

                  as nature, not man, has designed.

 

        - previously published in Taborri Press -

               

Into The Well - 1

 

I finished glancing through a Toscano catalog, enjoying all the beautiful sculptures suitable for putting in the garden.  Most everything was too expensive for me to ever buy, but just looking always inspired me with garden ideas more suitable for my budget.  So I then decide to wander through the garden, as the various possibilities were still fresh.

 

I wander through the flower and vegetable gardens, around the huge wild rose bush in bloom, past the honeysuckle overgrowing the old fence, and roam through the back gate onto the rest of the property, all wild and abandoned.  Clumps of daisies and cluster of late-blooming daffodils poke through wild grasses and tumbled stone, evidence of caring habitation in the old homestead that had been here years ago.  Part of the local stone chimney was evident, now a haven for snakes and other critters.   Giving the chimney a wide berth, I move behind it toward a particularly beautiful setting of blackberry flowers cascading on prolific branches.  They seem to form a circle with an opening in the center, but as I walk around the perimeter, I’m not able to penetrate within.  Something smaller was needed to avoid all the thorns… Yes, a bee.

 

I throw my garden/woods-wandering satchel over the blackberries wall and shape-shift into a bee able to fly between branches to avoid the thorns.  But the overpowering fragrance calls to me to stop and collect some pollen.  And then I fly to the next flower, and the next.  Wait a minute… I’m a bee in order to egress to the center, not to stop at every flower for pollen.  It can be hard to become something and not get caught into all the aspects of that something, all the instincts and attachments.  Focus… focus…   

 

I shoot straight to the center and see a round wooden plank cover lying there, encrusted with moss in places.  A metal handle pokes out of the center, so I shift back into my overweight self and pick up the satchel.  As I glance around I think back to the catalogue I had just seen and remember one of the items for sale entitled “The Dweller Below.”  This sculpture by artist Liam Manchester portrayed a legendary boogeyman rising from beneath the streets of London through a manhole cover.

 

 

 The sculpture gave me second thoughts about pulling the cover off, but really, what do boogeymen roaming the city-streets of London have to do with a well in Ozarks country.  Grunting, I pull off the cover and peer within, expecting to see water below.   Instead, there are stairs leading down into blackness.  What is this?  Not a water-well which are common around the farms here, but a passageway.  Where does it lead?  Could this have been an escape route in case of attack from rustlers or Indians way back?  How long ago was that homestead here?  Maybe it’s  more of an escape for during the Civil War when the North and South fought heavily in this area.  Part of the underground railway?  Where does this lead?

 

I pull out the flashlight from my satchel, glad the batteries were new, plus I had extra in the bag.  I tie a Kleenex on the tip of a nearby branch as evidence I was here, just in case… 

Dead-Nettle Mowing

pict-dead-nettle

All the steady rain brought forth lush growth of grass embedded within areas of, what turns out to be, purple dead-nettle.  I thought for years that it was heal-all that brought the beautiful lavender flowers to front yards everywhere around here.  Then henbit was mentioned as a possibility. 

After taking a flashlight and going outside at 4 am to pick a few strands of whatever-it-is, I got online today and researched it .  Purple dead-nettle is what the plants really are, as evidenced primarily by its petioles (leaf stalk) attaching the leaves to the square stem.   It does not sting like regular nettles; hence, the name dead-nettle.   I read that the tops and leaves are edible, usable in salads.  But, unfortunately, it spreads from seeds which continue to take over the lawn - front and back. 

So the best way of dealing with it is to mow before the seeds get a chance to be formed.  So I mowed.  Not so bad in 70 degree weather.  It is when it gets to 90+ degrees that it is really a problem.  So much so that I always wonder if I will survive the mowing.  The backyard hill adds to the difficulty.   

So I mowed all the dead-nettle and stray wild onions that look like tufts of hair growing here and there.  And all the while I was aware of the burgeoning dandelions that were just out of reach, under the mower blades.  I envisioned them chuckling, just waiting for me to pass with the mower so that they could then surge upwards, going to fluff-seed before the next mowing. 

I’m sure they do it purposely; that the dandelions are in calhoots with the dead-nettles to get the most out of that first mowing of the season so that both not only survive, but propagate.  Dandelions use hiding and then bolting as their main strategy whereas the dead-nettles use the beauty of their lavender flowers to hopefully delay the mowing so they can go to seed.  They are beautiful, so it always works - at least in my yard. 

Easter Contrasts

My mind remembered wearing pristine-white gloves, a pastel frilly new dress, a fluffy white jacket and a fancy white bonnet as I now dug in the earth with dirt under my fingernails and cuts on my fingers from pulling sturdy strands of Bermuda grass out of the vegetable bed.  I watched earthworms wriggle in abundance, now more worms than rocks and clay in the previously heavy soil. 

Manure, peat moss, nutrients and compost allowed the soil to transform from all clay and Bermuda grass to arable, fertile garden able to provide a growing place for nutritious vegetables interspersed with flowers.   Watching worms wriggling instead of people in church pews, as the services droned on. 

The sun gently warmed my back as I worked on this Easter Sunday, a lovely day with a slight breeze.  I was aware that many people were at church services, and I was glad the day was nice rather than having any precipitation, as originally forecast.  Children could engage in the egg hunts and adults get the necessary pictures taken.

For me, at this stage of my life, being outside in the garden with the worms and birds and budding trees and flowering forsythia and crocus was a blessing.  Yet also a contrast from years ago when life was very different. 
 

Easter, the season of new birth/rebirth, for the earth as the seasons changed from winter and for us our seasons of life change.  It all felt so right!

rain… lots of rain

This week we had more rain in one day than I have seen in the 25 years I have lived in this area.  Roads were covered in various depths of water, country bridges washed away, rivers and creeks overflowing, cars and trucks stranded in the high-flowing waters with drivers missing and presumed swept away, homes flooded out.  

It was particularly hard on the hospice staff having to make home visits.  They even got calls from families not to come because the bridge was out or the dirt road was impassable mud.  Yet everyone did what they could and provided excellent care.  Wouldn’t be the first time police or firemen were requested to help staff get to a patient.   

I finally squished my way home, fully expecting the backyard to be immersed in flowing creek water.  But it wasn’t.  Don’t know what made the difference since other years’ flooding  brought the creek waters rising up the slope of the backyard.  We were lucky!  As was our gnome statue gnome who actually was swept away in one of those floods.  He was named ‘Lucky’ after we found him residing in a bed of debris all the way in the far back corner.

The rain will provide the necessary moisture for the spring flowers and trees.  The next day all the Bradford Pears and forcythia opened even though it is likely they will get zapped out by the sure-to-still-occur frost.   If this had been snow we would have been totally immersed. 

The weather has been doing many odd things of late and this was just one of them.  Time for every one of us to make amends to Gaia and practice good earth-sharing with all beings calling this earth home. 

Winter Garden

The beautiful spring-type day on Saturday has reverted to a winter-type day today.  Snow cushions the footsteps of any person or critter that happens to be walking over the ground as the morning appears.  Heavy rains yesterday, followed by freezing temps last night add a crunch under the soft snow. 

The birds have already visited the replenished in-preparation-of-the-coming-snow birdfeeders, in particular, the cardinals.  I spend time contemplating them as they sit on the tree branches waiting their turn in the “pecking order.”  With 11 male cardinals and their mates, it looks like a Christmas tree festooned with red velvet cardinal-bows set against the white velvet background.

Under the snow, the ground heals from all the work of last spring and summer–the putting forth growth and then the wild profusion of life.  Time for a rest, for the rain to soak into the ground and the roots to be watered.  Activity goes on, but it is just out of view, underground.  

I rest and heal as I watch the winter garden resting and healing.

Healing in the Garden

     Yesterday was the first spring day in the high 60’s here in the Arkansas Ozarks.  I had to decide whether to spend my time continuing to work this site or be in the garden.  Happy to say, I choose to appreciate the outdoors and the lovely weather.   

     After trimming some bushes and doing the necessary cleanup, I then turned to the garden area requiring first attention each spring.  That is to say, the onion bed.  Now overgrown with long bermuda grass skeletons about to burst forth into active continually-growing strands and the newly emerging “weeds” that can be used for foraging but if left unchecked take over, this area needs to be cleared and prepared for the small onion bulbs.  However, once I got under the spiders-web of debris, I delighted to find some onions from last year had already come forth.  I pulled the smaller of these to enjoy now, divided the larger and planted some new. 

     Getting cuts from pulling against the resistance of long runners of Bermuda grass, seeing dirt under my fingernails, feeling hands dried out from the soil sucking the moisture out, and smelling the onions in the spring air - all this added to my delight of the day.  For this was all part of gardening that enhances my healing from the stresses of the week.

     Gentle sun with a slight breeze, birds singing, earthworms wriggling, little green shoots reaching upwards, the feel and smell of the earth - this outweighs the aching back and sore muscles I now feel.  Healing the ravages of stress can be hard work.