Of Dogwoods and Black Widows

A dynamic time of year. Is anyone else feeling it? A little coarse, rude, and hard to navigate at times. First sweet intoxication, smelly sensations everywhere, blossoms soliciting their nectar and jubilant demand for attention. We wanna be outdoors. All the time.

Bloom Report says quince, buck eye, strawberry, redbud, dogwood, lilac, sweet cicily, azalea, now iris. Being in the Spring now for 2 months. The soil has worn off our hands now for weeks. And now is about the time where the rubber meets the road and gardening.

I woke today tired. And brittle. My body has been working it for 2 months and is needing TLC and I can't find the reserve to make it so. Gardening activity is tiring. The projects around here are big (and inspiring) and require water and a song to set up a thriving situation.

And that's okay.

In my melancholy morning, I thought to take a seat and try breaking a many month meditation fast. That helped. And smiling to my heart. During the exercise, Mother Earth said to me, "the seeds you sow take time to ripen. You know that. You also know baby steps can be hard to see the progress. The dandelion trusts that at least a few brilliant ideas will find their fertile ground in time".

The newly transplanted elderberry, hops, rosa rugosa, peaches, etc. are needing mulching and our shipment of hay hasn't come in yet. This commitment and devotion to the plant world comes on strong. The obligation can feel overwhelming as a farmer.

"It's an incremental thing", she says. "These activities remind yourself to bend, to fortify yourself, practice self-care for you body mind and spirit. That might not be such a bad thing to be reminded of every once in awhile."

I laid in the hammock for my first visit this year. Before the dreamworld overtook me completely, I stirred to a black widow walking down my arm. I watched her and asked her to be on her way peacefully. Last week in the garden, I had intuitions of asking for protection from the spider kingdom. Sure enough, a black widow was on the bottom of my bucket where I was to place my finger. I'm still sorting out what 2 encounters in one with with black widows means to me.

I ate my first strawberries from the ground after the sow bugs dug a few dents. I asked them to step aside. Bringing the strawberry to my lips, they were perfectly rosey and deep and succulent. Right. I remember. A reminder to tend the joy inside.

~ Keri