I could feel the blisters coming up, but I couldn’t stop.
We have a beautiful tree in our yard, a somewhat rare tropical Kapok tree. It’s very tall, having grown up in a grove of oak trees – it had to go up to get the sun. Most of the year we don’t pay much attention to it, other than to admire the trunk.
But in the spring it flowers, and for two to three weeks the ground below is showered with the red blooms. These are not like the delicate white dogwood flower but the type that will put a dent in your car should it happen to land there. We put a parking area under this tree. What were we thinking?!
The mat of squishy, slippery rotting vegetation is hard to walk on or drive on and it creates a brown, moldy looking paste that is death to a car’s paint job.
I was considering all this while raking the debris into heavy piles of “stuff” and my usual outdoor thought surfaced. What is nature teaching me? Could it be that we are all parked in places in our lives where “stuff” is falling on us that is damaging us? I had no trouble connecting that to some relationally toxic environments that I’ve been in lately. And I had just read a blog post about dealing with self-absorbed people who drop words and thoughts on others without awareness of the effects.
I’m not exactly proud that this was my first evaluation of the nature flower bomb situation, because the next place my thinking went proved more valuable. What if I am the tree? What’s happening to the people who are parked in my vicinity during the hours and days of my life? What kind of clean-up chores are necessary after I’ve been around? Now there was food for thought. It gave me a whole new perspective on spending an afternoon doing crafts with a child, or taking time to shop for my quadriplegic client, or the contacts with people in my study group. There are a lot of people “parked” under my tree of influence and I can make decisions on how I affect them, for good or bad.
Yes, the blisters are there. On other days, it’s a sore back, or a sunburn or just being dog-tired. Is it worth it? I say yes, as I look at the results – a clean drive and parking area and new incentive to interact in a better way with my friends and neighbors on planet earth . Surrounded by trees, plants, sky, dirt and fresh air we open ourselves to hear some really valuable messages. I’m just sayin’, whoever created the natural world had a really good idea and today I get it.
I have noticed that I feel so good after spending a day outside working in the yard, and I’ve decided it’s the dirt. Therapeutic dirt. I always make sure I have a lot of contact with it – wear my sandals and shorts, and somehow manage to get smudges from head to toe.
Today’s dirt was AMAZING stuff. Two years ago it was a huge leaf pile and now it is all broken down, dark brown with nice fat earthworms crawling through it. It grows healthy looking weeds, which I pulled out and put in next year’s compost pile.
In Florida it’s the time of year to plant the spring garden. At the vegetable stand where I get the weekly fresh things for our meals, they also had tomato plants so I decided to get some instead of growing my own. An interesting aside – the stand is at our church and is “donation only” for whatever you want to pay and goes to the orphan homes in Cambodia that I visit. I call that a win-win transaction when I can support my special kids and get something to eat at the same time. I know the farmer who supplies it and he farms very successfully. Bet his tomato plants are going to do wonderful things for me this season.
So I pulled my earthboxes to the only sunny spot I could find in the oneacrewoods. It happens to be right near the fence line. The neighbor has cut down a lot of his trees and has a much sunnier yard than I do and some of the light sneaks through to my side of the fence. I think that my somewhat “iffy” results from the gardening I do is because there is so much shade. Good for keeping cool, bad for growing plants.
The other outside chore for today was harvesting my carrots. They have been growing for a whole year and are pitiful. This is what happens when you don’t thin out the seedlings. I’ve never been able to get carrots to germinate in my Florida gardens so I was really excited about all the fluffy greenery and couldn’t bear to pull any of it out. This is probably why they are so small after a whole year! (could also be the shade, or the inconsistent watering, or the general inattention they received).
So, other than the fact that some bug is eating all the leaves off my strawberry plants, things are looking much better in the garden today. And I feel great.
I’ve been out in the oneacrewoods, which is what I call my yard because… well, you know why. It’s the time of year in Florida when outdoors is like a very, very big room with perfect air conditioning and perfect lighting and pretty much perfect everything else. On days like this I just want to live out there.
I was out weeding the strawberry beds before the husband left for work this morning. I got it all done. And in preparation for possible colder weather in December and January, I re-positioned my greenhouse supports to better fit my square foot garden boxes. I took down all the shade cloth since we now have the opposite problem of not enough sun. I raked, hoed, got dirt under my fingernails. I smelled the arugula and the citronella. I watched the squirrels (population explosion there). I tried to figure out where all the bees were coming from (still don’t know…) I counted how many different sounds I could hear – 10, counting the far away traffic. It was a sensual workout.
As lovely as it can be inside our houses, I think we were meant to be outside a good deal of the time. In practically every part of our world, life of some kind thrives outside where there’s sunlight and water and nutrients. Quite remarkable really, that everything we need is here. After a couple hours of fresh air and sunshine I feel like I’ve had an attitude adjustment as well – there’s something freeing about all that’s going on out there without my having to be in control of it, or even give it a thought. I’m just sayin’, I wish everyone could be here this morning (although it would possibly get a little crowded). I think I’ll quit writing and get out.