The Moon of Full Flower

Beltane                     Full Flower Moon

The full flower moon rises tonight on beds full of daffodils, tulips, snowdrops and small blue flowers whose name I don’tdaffodils675 recall.  The furled hosta leaves that come up in a tightly packed spiral have begun to uncurl.  Dicentra have full leaves now, though no flowers yet.   A few iris have pushed blossoms up, a purple variety I particularly like opens early.  Even though they will not bear flowers until July the true lilies have already grown well past six inches, some with gentle leaves and others with leaves that look like a packed icanthus, an Egyptian temple column rising out of this northern soil.

My hydroponically started plants will stay outside today for four hours, working up to seven until they graduate to full time outdoor spots.  All of the three hundred plants began as heirloom seeds and have had no chemicals other than nutrient solution.   Unless we paid Seed Savers to ship us transplants, there is no other way to get heirloom plants that need growing time before the date of the last frost.  Too, the selection of vegetables and their varieties is of our choosing, not the nurseries.  I don’t have anything against nurseries; I just like to grow what I want, not what’s available.

The big daylilly move underway will make way for a full sun bed of sprawlers like squash, watermelon and cucumbers.  The perennial plants like the lilies, iris, daffodils, hosta, ferns, and hemerocallis have their complexity but I’ve majored in them for the last 14 years.  Now I understand their needs, their quirks, the rhythm of their lives and their care.  Vegetables, on the other hand, only this last two growing seasons have received any concentrated attention.  Their complexities are multiple because there are so many varieties and species with so many varying needs related to soil temperature, ph, nutrients, length and temperature of the growing season.

The learning curve has been steep for me so far, though the experience gained from the perennial plants has kept me from being overwhelmed.  In another couple of years I should have a good feel for what does well here and what does not.  After that, the vegetable garden will become more productive while at the same becoming easier to manage.

By that time, too, I hope to have had two successful bee-keeping years under my belt and have grown my colony to three hives or more, enough to justify purchasing an extractor.  At that point this should be an integrated and functioning micro-farm.  If it works well, I hope it will serve as a model for what can be done on 2.5 acres.  We’ll see.

Sheepshead Mentors

Beltane                        Waxing Flower Moon

After another night of losing sheepshead, it finally came to me.  These guys have been playing a lot longer than me.  Bill since childhood.  Roy and Dick since high school and Ed since entering the Jesuits.  Now I view them as my mentors.  That way I can lose and learn, instead of just lose.

The flower moon is near full and so beautiful.  It overlooks all our seeds, our bees, our orchard.  The back deck may transform into a moon viewing platform since it has a nice view to the south and east where the full moons tend to linger.

Paula Westmoreland came out today and we finalized plans for the garden transformation, the vegetable garden.  All the work will be done while I’m still in Panama City.  I’m excited to have more beds in which to plant vegetables and to have the vegetable garden have a more aesthetic feel.

Bees and Babies

Beltane                    Waxing  Flower Moon

I can report that the bees have babies.  They have been as busy as, well, bees.  The hive is coming along, all the rooms have been swept out and a few new rooms have been added.  You know, all the little ones.  They seem to be living mostly on last year’s food, but the blooms have begun to come so the pollen buffet will open soon.

They are a friendly and diligent addition to our land.  They work in their way; we work in ours.  Mutuality.

Our Life And This Land Are One

Beltane                      Waxing Flower Moon

The garden beckons, so a short one this morning.  I’m set for having the garden planted before I leave next Friday, atulips674 week from tomorrow.  Everything I need to get in the ground before I get back will have a spot:  various tomato plants and potato eyes, broccoli, cauliflower, egg plant, onions, leek, chard, greens and cucumbers.

There is a sense of wholeness now as the orchard begins to blossom, the vegetable garden for this year starts to grow and the perennial flowers, hosta, ferns and bugbane blossom and emerge.   With the ecological garden’s work later this month we will have a yet more integrated homestead, with food and flowers, bees and a home of their own for the grandkids.

This must be a similar feeling to a farmer’s, a feeling that our life and this land are one.  That means, too, that as the garden comes to life, a certain part of my Self also comes to life, when it grows, so do I.  As the harvest comes in so do I harvest fruits within my Self.

When the garden begins to go fallow in late August through October, another aspect of my Self blossoms.  In this light I can see September 29th, the Feast of  St. Michael the Archangel, as the springtime of the  soul.  This begins a period more reflective and contemplative, a period, too, when my creativity flowers.  As outside, so inside.

Blessed be.

This May Night Has A Sacred Presence

Beltane                Waxing  Flower Moon

When I walk outside at night, on the back deck, the flower moon shines, almost full.  A May rain has dampened all the earth in the back, where the vegetables seeds wait for the right combination of moisture and heat to spring to life, begin their season.  The earth on this May night gives off a scent, a strong scent,  the odor of fertility.

It was said that the odor of sanctity, a scent associated with saints, was the smell of roses.  I’ll go with the smell of roses and leave the sanctity to the theologians, but this May night has a sacred presence, the presence of life and the inanimate in an intimate union.

Moon light on a growing garden, an orchard beginning to leaf out, tulips and daffodils folded up for the night, are the early signs of a northern summer.

A northern summer has a marked difference from the southern US or Southeast Asia, which my brother refers as the land of endless summer.  We come to summer after a long, cold, sometimes difficult winter.  The greens, the yellows, the reds and blues of summer gladden the heart, create a sense of openness and possibility, so welcome.  In lands where the seasons are only dry or wet, but always hot there is no caesura, a fallow time, for contrast.

Right now, to step outside in the dark, with a fine bright moon, is to walk into the Otherworld straight out of the Land of Winter.  Magical.

A Flag Hanging From A Tree On The Mississippi

Beltane                   Waxing Flower Moon

Windows Without Walls.  Microsoft has this new advertising slogan.  I keep wondering if they realize that without walls there are no windows?

2 hours today for my baby plants getting ready to head out to the garden.  They’re done right now and I have to go get them before my treadmill workout.

As I passed over the Mississippi on the way out to the endodontist this morning, I noticed a tree with an American flag attached to a branch, fluttering.  Somehow the artlessness of it reminded me of days gone by, of a world in which there were fewer right angles, fewer stone bridges and no steel and concrete ones, no cars.  This triggered a revery at first between art and artifice which went away almost as quick as it came.  Not the point.

What was the point?  Permaculture has something to do with it.  So does our very American and persistent yearning to return to the land, to become one with nature.  This flag without a flag pole, without dramatic lighting suggested this.  What was there here?

The red car sped along Highway 252 headed toward Highway 100.  The reflections kept coming.  Nature and artifice.  No.  Not nature and artifice.  Nature and the human drive to build and decorate, artifice.  Both natural.  Then, the city, where I feel such energy and hope, and our home with its orchard and vegetable beds, its perennial flowers like the tulips and daffodils up now, where I also feel energy and hope, these two must walk together.  The tight gathering of humans and their shelters is no different from the mud daubed home of the wasps or the cave of the hibernating bear.  Likewise humans earning their food from mother earth is no different from the bass dining on minnows or the moose eating duckweed from a wilderness lake.

Yes, that was it.  The flag on the tree branch reminded me that we humans and, all of what we do, are natural.  This whole earth in the balance rhetoric is wrong; it is not earth that is in the balance, it is rather humankind.  We may live in such a way that we eliminate our own niche.  It has happened before and it will happen again, naturally.

Root Canal. The Sequel.

Beltane                   Waxing Flower Moon

Root canal sequel.  My one month check-up today.

Got in the car and drove 50 minutes south to Bloomington, exited on Pennsylvania and took it to the Penncrest Professional Building.  I got in about 10:10 for a 10 a.m. appointment.  Not bad.

The dental assistant came in, masked and wearing floral pattern scrubs that looked like a designer of motel interiors had found another outlet.  She stuck a plastic gadget in my mouth, had me clamp down.  A whir and a click later I spit out the plastic piece and saw the image pop-up directly on the lap-top screen to my right.  Pretty damned slick.  No film.  No wait.

Dr. Erickson followed her.  With a practiced flick of his wrist he moved the long dangling light over my face, gave it a twist to turn it on and began snapping on a pair of rubber gloves.  How is it?  Good.  Hmmm.  Looks good.  You’re ok.  If there’s any problem, I’m sure your dentist will call me.

That was it.  I had driven almost an hour for less than 5 minutes of surveillance. Worth it, of course, because nothing beats a professional eye and hand, but 2 hours + on the road.  Geez.

On the way there and back I listened to a recorded book.  This time a Clive Cussler thriller titled Plague Ship.  Entertaining.

Projection Is Not Just A Machine In A Movie Theatre

Beltane                    Waxing Flower Moon

“If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us.” – Herman Hesse

This is a fundamental tenet of Jungian psychology, projection.  I mentioned this acquaintance a while back whom I have begun to despise.  It became clear, as I wrote that, that projection was at work.  There is something about him that I despise in myself, just what I’m not sure.  It may be that I don’t think through things as clearly as I imagine since that’s the main problem I have with him.  It may be that his anger, a strong undercurrent in his approach to life, reflects a similar emotional undercurrent in mine.  As I write about it, that one makes sense to me.

One of the difficulties I’ve noticed in the transition from 60’s political work to the millennial political work I’ve done with the Sierra Club has its roots there.  In the 60’s our anger, our rage against the system fueled a willingness to live on the fringe of society and take the consequences.  Today, though, politics on the left has a quieter, more plodding nature.  I want to build a movement, mount the barricades, define enemies but my new colleagues use reason and persistence.  In part this mirrors the relative failures of the left in the last three decades, we have been weaker.

It has caused me considerable self-examination.

I’m not sure where the underlying anger comes from, but I suspect its origin lies in perceived mistreatment by my father and fate.  When I approach either of these from an older, calmer perspective, I can see both my role in them and their unintentional nature.  Anger and fear have ruled my life at critical junctures.  This may be the point where I finally confront them.

A Mist of the Otherworld

Beltane                   Waxing Flower Moon

Beets.  Carrots planted.  Beds all planned.  Kate’s taken off all the wire surrounds for our fruit orchard and begun eliminating quack within the mounds around them; the mounds filled with guild plants to sustain the trees.  This afternoon I will round-up the quack in the areas around the mounds, then plan to seed it next week.

Seeds.  Plants.  Reproduction and renewal.  Resurrection.  Reincarnation.  No wonder the garden has a mist of the Otherworld.  It reeks of life at its most survival oriented and at its most elegant, beautiful.  We see there the possibility of our own resurrection, planted too in the soil, awaiting a springtime for the soul.

Can we draw an analogy from the garden to our Selves?  We can’t help it.  Whether it translates to our experience or not, we intuit that it does.  I’m for the intuitive.  It just make intuitive sense.

Life At A Right Turn Off A Moderately Busy Secondary Road

Beltane                 Waxing Flower Moon

Most of my life happens at a right turn off a moderately busy secondary road somewhere in the heartland of the North American continent.  This thought crossed my mind as I retrieved the orange fluorescent sign for our garage sale, the one posted at the corner of 153rd Ave. NW and Round Lake Boulevard.

When I turned back into our lot, then went back in the house, I realized how rich and thick the world is inside our house and how thin it is on the road leading up to it.  That’s not to say there’s nothing of interest along the way, of course there is.  Other people’s rich thick worlds for one thing.  The life of the oak, acacia and poplar woods  that surrounds our homes for another.

My comment is not so much about the thin world leading up to our door as the contrast between my experience of our home and of that space.  In here we have taken pains to have rooms devoted to particular needs.  In those rooms our life has taken place, at least our domestic life, for just at 15 years.  Memories.

We create here, too.  Kate quilts; I write.  We create a life together, a buttress of support for our family and our selves.  The garden and the flower beds, now multiple, have years of labor represented in their current configuration, labor that has made this place an intimate acquaintance.

This is  home.  Home is where the heart is, yes, but it also where life is.