It's a New World

It's a new world...one without the tall pine tree that shaded our patio from the seasonal suns....and I miss it. Friday, a Polynesian crew of men stopped by our yard to tell us they would weed all our gardens and take down the dead tree in our backyard this weekend. I hadn't even noticed the tree was dead. That's a scary thing even given all the busyness that's been going on around our house. We've been sick with the stomach flu, we've had guests from out-of-town, we've moved furniture and tons of "stuff" into a new cabin, and we've had a family wedding. I've spent hours gardening, pulling out the grass that invades every year, and I still hadn't noticed the dead tree.

Jim and I worked in the pond yesterday morning before we went to Jane's birthday party at the zoo. I didn't pay attention to the tree then either. But when we came home later in the day, the tree was gone. This morning while we sat outside, I missed the feather shade it gave to the patio. Instead of sitting in a pleasantly private place, I was sitting in the glaring sun--the way the patio used to be when my kids were little. I guess we could count the tree rings and look for the tree's history. About 15 years ago our roof caved in and the tree and all the roses in the garden were broken as the snow and debris from the broken roof was pushed off the house. The tree did an amazing thing...one of the branches that stretched outward moved into the position of growing up...it became the new trunk and the other branches supported it. I've always been thrilled to think of such an adaptation, about the strength of the tree to overcome adversity. But then, this very tall, strong tree died and I didn't notice its going. There's a lesson there somewhere.

Weed Your Own Garden

I spent three hours today weeding part of my gardens. I was taking out the clumps of long grasses that seem to come with the water. They're not lawn, which grows in tight proximity to itself; these are long-leafed grasses with stringer roots. I pulled one today that had roots at least 3 feet long...just a few green leaves and then a terribly long root. It's hard to distinguish these grasses from the beginnings of my fireweed plants. Fireweed is a local wildflower which I have carefully cultivated in my garden for four years. This year there are probably 20 fireweed plants and I am thrilled to see it thriving, but I did kill some fireweed plants in my weeding. I kept thinking they were killed by "friendly fire," much like some men are killed in war. Getting the bad things out often hurts the good things surrounding it.

Today as I weeded, I could hear the pond running....right now we've got water pumping through a filtration system to clear out algae that sprouts and blooms every spring. It's covering everything in the pond with a green-gray slime, and we're treating the water as well as using a filter. It doesn't matter that the sound comes from such a mundane beginning....it still sounds like a lovely waterfall and it's comforting.

It's been raining in Salt Lake, and for a few minutes this morning while I was outside, it seemed as if there were snow flakes...the sky was gray but it wasn't cold. While I was working I kept thinking about how wonderful it is to have the time to cultivate a garden. I am generally an organized person who accomplishes a lot; however, I am not methodical. I don't work in my garden every day, and there are always weeds that could be pulled. But today, Voltaire's words kept coming to me, "Everyone must cultivate his own garden." It's easy to see the weeds and flaws in someone else's garden, not always easy to see our own. Right now, the weed I'm working on in my personality garden is impatience. I want things done quickly, and I generally want them done the way I think they should be done. I'm trying to fix that, and pulling out the very long roots of the pesky grasses made me see how deeply ingrained some flaws and habits are. It isn't enough to cut them off at the root; we have to get a firm hold and pull the root out. That takes time and patience.

When I think of the ways I backslide daily in my search to root out impatience in my life, I'll want to remember how slow the work was to get the whole root out.