Now that the wheel of the year is on its upward turn, opening to longer days and more light, I felt especially joyous about this rainbow's end that set down across the street from us during this rainy season here in northernmost California, when any break in the clouds (even without a rainbow) is cause for celebration. Having gone out a couple of days ago in blustery conditions to buy new strawberry plants, I was delighted to awaken yesterday to clear skies and the urge to get the berries in the ground. Clearing away the two garden rows, trying to focus on what I was doing rather than my tendency to hurry and "get the job done," I found myself thinking about how important it is to cultivate the garden one HAS----and what that means to me.
As a younger woman, I rebelled against the idea, thinking it meant I was "settling" for the ordinary or conforming, somehow. Yet as I dug in the rich dark soil, trying to avoid chopping any earthworms in two, smoothing the surface to ensure I'd pulled away all the spindly weeds, and then digging spots to set each shiny-leaved strawberry plant, I felt the lovely security of home and was able to delight in it----in spite of my knowledge that many folk are desiring and deserving of home and do not have this pleasure, or that I, too, know that such pleasures are elusive, or even that I (quite recently) felt that I could not live here any longer after we lost our dog Fritz to some sort of poisoning.
We never identified what killed Fritz (and almost took his brother Kipper), and so our yard took on a larger-than-life, dangerous element, filled with "what ifs" and growing in my mind to be emblematic of the trouble that our entire Mother Earth is in.
Though Jon enclosed a smaller, safer segment of yard for Kipper and he's been fine in the months since his brother died, I told my husband I had to move to the country; I could no longer live here (where he delights in being able to walk to work) if I had to fear our own dog's being poisoned. However, taking some tours around the area with a real estate agent who also "bought high" around the same time we did a couple of years ago, I know that we can't really afford to sell our house and move right now (presuming someone would be on hand to buy it), good information that helped me cool my heels, and further served to remind me of the importance of being with where we are, with what we have, and making the best of it.
After all, when is anyone ever really "safe," whether at home or not? And safety isn't my goal anyway. . . . Only by taking risks, opening one's heart, and living fully is there any meaning to life. Yes, I know it's obvious, but look how easily it's forgotten, and how often we seem to need to remind ourselves of this.
