The ever pulsating power of Mother Nature is unrelenting in her glorious lust for life. Her magnificent greenery, so much of which is known by humans as ‘weeds,’ daily increases unremittingly, growing up toward the scorching sun inches, and seemingly, feet, per day; spreading swiftly over acres and acres, smothering out any human efforts to grow our specifically chosen crops.
For hours and hours a day, I drip sweat in sweltering heat, in the butt-up position, blood rushing through my brain, pulling out weeds called lambsquarters, stinging nettle, amaranth, millet, milkweed, purslane, pigsweed, thistle — the list goes on and on — stem by stem by stubbornly ungiving stem I pull. At days end, I crash, exhausted, unable to bend over one more time, looking at a never-ending list of undone chores that are snuffed out by the ever multiplying hordes of invincible weeds. “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower, drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees is my destroyer.” Dylan Thomas knew. I wonder how I will survive this astonishing onslaught of Life?
But comes a pause in the driving beat. I stop and listen. Walk the paths through the rolling, flowered, multi-colored meadows. Flowers of brilliant orange, soft, sunny yellows, cobalt blues, subtle mauves, pure whites: raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, mulberries, elderberries, all proliferate. Leaves of deep green, light green, waxed green, pointed, rounded, crowded, sparse, reaching, receding into the densely packed, raucous communities of an exuberant, exultant Mother Nature. Where the beauty is stunning. Ineffable. And healing.