Yesterday we finally got something done for the land. The large bed of weeds that had overgrown between the mesquite tree and the crab apple tree has finally been cut back. The small holy bushes can finally be seen. We found ivy climbing and suffocating some of the weeds. We're doing what we can to cut back the small forest of weeds and maintain our land. There's still a long way to go, but progress is being made towards a healthier environment for our local plant life.
A part of me wishes we didn't have to weed our garden spaces. It's not that I'm lazy and don't like the work of maintaining our land. In truth, I was somewhat ambivalent about it when I worked for the landscaping company years back, but I think that was a combination of the summer heat and not feeling inspired to maintain another person's land. However, it's a very different story. I love the land we live on, and I love the act of maintaining it. I just wish we didn't have to uproot the plants that willingly chose this land as their home. It seems somehow unfair to me. Nature allowed these plants to take root and flourish, so who am I to say that they aren't welcome? And for what? Because they're not pretty enough? Because they're in the way of what I want to grow? Because they're unpleasant, often spiny or causing some sort of skin reaction? I wish that the yard could flourish just the way it wanted to, without our influence, to grow wild as nature intended it to be.
In the realm of productive gardens, that's just not the way things work. We need to cultivate certain plants for a variety of reasons. In the case of food bearing plants, we hope to support our small household with those plants. When it comes to flowers and other elements of beauty or shade, they have their own practicality. Sunflowers and other plants provide seeds, vital to feeding the local birds and squirrels. Trees provide shade, offering a pleasant and needed escape from the summer's brutal heat. Even mowing the lawn helps reduce the ticks and snakes that could be potentially harmful to our family, both human and animal. I suppose these things aren't necessary for life, but they do improve the quality of the land around us.
So yesterday our mission was to cut back that grove of weeds. Wild bushes, milkweed, and spiny dandelion all had taken root. We pulled them out and cut them back, though we didn't dig up the roots as I suppose we should some day go back to do. I know ignoring the roots only invites them to return. We will get to that when the time is right, but for now our mission was to cut back all the unwanted growth to try and make way for that which we wanted to survive.
It felt good to work with the earth again. I wasn't exactly digging my hands into the soil, nor was I able to bury my feet into the soft soil. To be honest, the crumbling mulch bed beneath it all would have likely felt quite unpleasant under my feet. Even without those happy feelings, I was able to feel like I was taking my part to care for the earth again. As I cut further and further in I felt like an adventurer looking for a new discovery. First I found the base of the mesquite tree. Next I came across the holy bushes. We even found what looks like a baby holy bush growing in the field of all that chaos. Next I started to dig out the ivy. There were two caterpillars hidden in all of that mess. One was a large, fuzzy yellow one. The other was about half the size, but the same fuzzy yellow, like a little brother. They were both relocated to the crab apple tree where they should have plenty to eat so they may grow. Perhaps the butterfly garden would have been smarter, but we didn't think of that.
On a sad note, there seems to be a lot of death around. There's a dead tree in the back lot. There's a tree that seems to be dead in the front lot. The base of a dead cactus marks the entry way to the drive. There's a stump of a dead peach tree on the side of the house. Even the mesquite tree seems to be ready to release it's hold on life to be put to some other purpose. However, even with so much death, there is life. The cactus has regrown with a new vibrance, both from babies dropped off from the original plant, and sprouting up from the dead roots. The peach tree seems to have growth around it's base as well. Though the mesquite tree was dying, a plentiful number of weeds grew in the soft shade it provides. From death there seems to be new beginnings, which gives me hope that this land will soon blossom into something vibrant and plentiful.
As I stood in that patch of weeds, debating which direction to cut away next, having visions of the wild and vibrant possibilities that section of land held, I felt connected again. I felt like I was taking action to improve the land around me, not only in appearance, but on many other levels as well. The land is destined to be beautiful with both garden harvest and vibrant flowers. The soil will be improved as we compost what we can to give back vital nutrients to the earth. The plants will do their part to cleanse the air making oxygen that is so vital to our bodies survival. The air will smell fresh, sweet, and fragrant from the bounty of flowers. Our carbon footprint will be altered by our reduced need for groceries from outside the home. In general, we will be living more at peace with the land. Everything will come to balance. I think I'm finally finding happiness in this land. There is no longer any doubt. I am where I belong.
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