A small New Year's lecture to myself

A wise friend once told me that gardeners play an integral part in helping turn the wheel of seasons. Her faith is touching and, I hope, not misplaced. It has sustained me. If I could move through the occasional ennui, doggedly at times, I would find myself in the tender blessed willow-green spring.

But faith is only as strong as the increasingly stronger tests. We find ourselves sharing this miraculous planet with a visionless but powerful few who seem bent on willfully careening toward a dark abyss of greed and hubris. (A little dramatic, admittedly, but their high visibility sometimes obscures my perspective.)

My duck-booted feet are firmly planted in midwinter. The storms are blowing in from the coast, bringing heavy rains and swelling the creeks and rivers to flood stage. The wheel is turning and always will, regardless of my participation.

So maybe my friend was speaking more of a certain kind of mindfulness. Maybe the gardener’s part is planting to foster an awareness, to honor the earth by being a participant in the cycles, to share the magic, spread the word. To be a proselytizer.

We are inextricably tied to our earth. The bond is not a choice, merely a fact. To celebrate this bond is to share commonality with anyone who has ever planted a seed and anyone who ever will. From the bowl of sky and stars above us to the tiniest cells in the soil and the sea, macrocosm to microcosm, what we share in the earth is stronger than any short-lived machinations of those fueled by a power lust. These come and go; the earth and its wonders are timeless.

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The wheel turns.
Happy New Year.