Goofing around in the flower beds this afternoon, I noticed something that just floored me. It brought me to my knees, emotionally, to match my gardening posture. Surely I’ve noticed it before, but never quite like this. Have you?

  This plant is branching and reaching for air and sunshine, webbing itself elegantly and casually in a singular effort for LIFE. In just a few square inches of earth, with access to only about half a day of sunshine and the occasional splash of well water or rain, these blooms have been power-housing their way through the summer.

   They provide beauty, calm, and ease. I don’t think there is a more self-sufficient flower in the universe; nor do I think there is a more prolific one.

   This has surely caught my attention before, but today it brought me to tears. Good tears… Grateful, hopeful tears. How wonderful to have proof that in nature so much can come from one tiny thing going really, simply, masterfully well!

   Yes, the skeptic in me pipes up and says  that surely back in March I scattered dozens of other zinnia seeds that did not germinate and grow. The skeptic would have me believe that the numbers are not in my favor. But you know what? Those seeds, had they grown, would have been crowded out anyway. Or eaten by my chickens. This one happy plant is all this little corner of dirt really needed, and it is more than enough. It is spreading all over the sidewalk.

   I know we all get deeply discouraged by trying so hard in life. We fight passionately for our beliefs, and we defend our rights or the rights of others. We struggle with finances and stewardship. We test our most precious relationships and endure that same testing and analysis from others. I know we all grow weary, worse than weary, and sometimes think it’s just not worth the effort. The failures seem so numerous and the successes so few by comparison. It wears us down, and it hurts.

   When I was crouched today down on the sidewalk, pulling weeds, and this thick singular stem grinned quietly at me from behind those flowers, it hit me. Just one seed.

   Suddenly all the many ways I have been feeling inadequate melted away. Just as strong and clear as the Worry Door vision I had a year and a week ago.. my heart sensed that despite all the times my efforts seem to fail or simply fade away unnoticed… when the conditions are right, great things will spring from one effort.

   In that moment I felt legitimate excitement imagining all the things that might come to fruition when that one thing, that one special effort, finally germinates and takes root in my life.

   I’m about halfway through Chesterson’s Orthodoxy right now, and this passage seems perfect for the moment:

The grass is signalling to me with all its fingers at once; the crowded stars seemed bent upon being understood. The sun would make me see him if he rose a thousand times. The recurrences of the universe rose to the maddening rhythm of an incarnation, and I began to see an idea.

   I happen to think that anything we need to know can be found in nature. Any message meant for us is there.

   For my husband, who is working so hard at the Commish and is leading a team unlike any that place has ever seen, I am so proud of you. What are you are doing matters a great deal to people far beyond what we generally understand. Keep doing it. Keep fighting for what is right, and maintain that confidence that no matter where your path leads, you are respected and loved. You make me so proud and inspire me constantly to just do better. In everything. (Yes I totally said that mentally in a Jack Nicholson voice...)

   For my children, I wish I could give you the world. Everything I do have is yours, and anything I can muster beyond that I am happy to see you use and enjoy. My heart wants to give you far more than material things, though, and I am so excited to sense that those days are returning to us.

   For my friends, Marci, Jen, Melissa, Steph… Who each seem to be facing heart aches that can only be solved by Love, faith and hope, be happy! Because Love, faith and hope are the most powerful forces in the Universe. You are not powerless because you lack solutions. You are so incredibly powerful because you have surrendered to exactly What will make everything new and beautiful again. Faith, not fear.

   So, friends, if you find yourself slipping into that thought pattern where you lament past failures or indulge in frustration or even anger over constant, repeating, painful rejection… Think of the dozens of zinnia seeds that fell to the ground for nothing, except maybe a chicken’s meal. Then remember that just ONE SEED became all that was needed. Do not give up. Do not stop trying. You are enough, and what you seem to lack is available through prayer and believing. Keep doing every single thing you believe to be good and right. Continue on a path of Love and just ignore all evidence that would have you think Love isn’t the answer. THAT is the lie.

“Believe in the Possibility of Everything.”
xoxoxoxo

   Over this past month my babies have become, once again and more than ever, less babies and more young women. Now sixteen and eighteen, they are both squarely in a chapter of transition away from girlhood. Happily, I must admit, they seem ready for it all to progress.

   When I stop and dwell on it for very long, the plain facts of this part of life overwhelm me with grief. Had someone told me five years ago that we would still be enduring this now, I might not have been able to bear it. If you ask Handsome, he would say certainly not. Instead, life came at us, as it thankfully does for everyone, just one day and one moment at a time. And our joys have far outnumbered even our deepest sorrows.

“If only you could make now last forever.”  Frank said on one of those nights while they lay on their backs watching a huge half-moon roar up out of the dark shoulders of the mountain. Frank was eleven and not by nature a philosopher. They had all lain still, thinking about this for a while. Somewhere, a long way off, a coyote called. “I guess that’s all forever is,” his father replied. “Just one long trail of nows. And I guess all you can do is try and live one now at a time without getting too worked up about the last now or the next now.” 

   In fact, the miracle here, even ahead of the biggest ones for which we still pray, the most sublime grace we enjoy… Is that in the exact space of that dark thought of grief over this temporary separation, perhaps just a half a heartbeat after it, we feel so much intense joy and see so much blinding, dazzling light that not gobbling up life is the unnatural thing. Love is all around us and between us, still. The plain facts of life that would have us crumble in pain instead become the debris. That’s how powerful Love is.

   My girls are such beautiful creatures, in every way. One is an artist and one a writer, both stunningly talented and skilled beyond their years. One loves music and running; the other loves cooking and books. Both are easy friends and loyal ones. Both are so loving, so fierce and wonderful in their own myriad ways. And both love animals, which is why Handsome and I started this place almost six years ago.

Two creeks ran through the Booker brothers’ land, and they gave the ranch its name, the Double Divide. They flowed from adjacent folds of the mountain front and in their first half mile they looked like twins. The ridge that ran between them here was low, at one point almost low enough for them to meet, but then it rose sharply in an interlocking chain of rugged bluffs, shouldering the creeks apart. Forced thus to seek their separate ways, they now became quite different.

   Although they surely do not realize it, my girls are with me constantly. They are in my thoughts so steadily that despite their physical absence I feel them strongly all over the farm. I feel their shadows, of course, as all mothers do… The memory of their terrifyingly small, vulnerable bodies, all elbows and skull, inside my young belly. Their trusting mouths nursing. Their sweet velvet cheeks, flushed from the sun or clean from a vanilla scented bubble bath, pressing against my face for cuddles. Long, skinny arms squeezing me hard at bedtime, begging for “just one more chapter Momma?” And then those basketball legs that wore tights and ruffled socks to church, uniform skirts to school, and jeans on our weekend trips to Alan’s Buffalo Mountain. So yes, of course their shadows linger and warm up the peripherals here. For this Handsome and I are so thankful.

   Here is a quick list of things I wish I did better. Things I’m working at improving. Weaknesses that need strength-training. Sources of occasional embarrassment. And some pain.

                                            

   Hello there! This is Handsome’s birthday week. He has ***miraculously*** taken off from the Commish for several days, and I am so happy. He needs the break, like for serious, and I love having him home. Each day this week is different.

     This is the front door. Those lights used to be super cute. But the plug got smashed in the door, so they need to go. That wreath looks so unfinished and blah. The gladiolus have been pecked nearly to death by the chickens. And behind this shipment of cheezits (that’s a whole other story) sits a really worn out concrete urn full of who knows what.

   Walking down the sidewalk, which is dotted with goose poop, we arrive at the jungle-like end of the east flower bed where I have collected rusty milk cans and this fabulous rusty iron garden bench. The idea is great in my head, but it just hasn’t panned out in reality. All of this needs some fresh eyes.

   But thank the garden heavens for zinnias. Amen?

   Oh boy. This is the kitchen door area. I actually love love love this tiny spot on the farm, but I am slightly ashamed to show it to you. This is where the herb bed brings me so much joy. This is where that green and burlap chair cradles watermelon vines. And this is where I grill steaks and chicken breasts a few times a week. Oh, and clearly it is also where we hang our wet clothes and swimsuits at the end of an outdoor day. Yesterday, as you can plainly see, was an outdoor day. That is my running bra and Handsome’s swimsuit and tee shirt.

   This is the herb bed again, looking up from behind it. Isn’t the morning sun glorious? Irresistible. It makes everything look so good, even it its messy jungle-like state, that sometimes I just let it be. Like, for three months at a time. I have plenty of weeding, feeding, and mulching to do in this area today, and if any bare spots show up I intend to fill them with something new. Perhaps zinnias.

   So that is my morning plan! I am looking forward to a cleaner, fresher look to the house entries, a cleaner, fresher mind and body after a nice, long run, and then some more birthday celebrating with my good looking guy.

   What do you have planned today? How is your garden looking? Are we still friends, despite the chaos and neglect I have shown you this morning?

Confession is Good for the Soul

XOXOXOXO

   Last night as the sun was sliding downhill, past the pond and behind where the coyotes lurk, I went to the garden to check our squash vines. Given the war I recently waged against the cabbage pests, I’ve been fully expecting to one day discover thousands of those flat, grey squash bugs devouring my third most favorite crop.

I zuchinni.

I frogs to a slightly lesser degree. But I love that they eat bugs!

   …two tiny green tree frogs!! And not a squash bug in sight.

   Dare I believe that these dime-sized creatures are eating the insects? Dare I hope to have a zucchini bumper crop this summer?

   Dare I stuck my arm in that thick vine forest to harvest said crop, knowing that frogs are nearby and might jump on me?

   I would honestly rather deal with the buffalo.

Chunk-hi, our four year old buffalo bull. We him completely.