Springing to Life!

Today I spent some time in our yard and nearby park, observing the first signs of spring in our neighborhood.  The last couple weeks we have had a lot of rain, and yesterday and today have been sunny and warm and suddenly many green things are sprouting up and blooming!  It's amazing how suddenly they all sprout up and how quickly they grow!

There is so much symmetry in nature, even the squirrels look choreographed!

Bleeding heart flowers just starting to develop.

My sister wanted to find a four-leaf clover.  We looked around for a few minutes and found one!

Sprouting Seeds, Lead-Free Hoses, and Robin Recovery!

It was an exciting day at the community garden!  The seeds we planted just five days ago were already sprouting up!  It was kind of extraordinary to witness.  Those tiny little seeds had already transformed and risen from the earth!  It is really interesting to contemplate how the potential life that is contained in a seed bursts into actuality when the conditions are right.  I wonder how seeds stay alive, and how long they may actually survive to germinate if they do not have the right conditions right away.

The food grown at the garden is donated to a local food pantry.  I purchased lead-free hoses for the garden to be sure we were not poisoning the clients who will eat the foods we are growing.

I hooked up the new hoses and filled our rain barrel with water from the school.  Then I watered the newly planted beds and some of the beds that still had plants from last year.

The chives are looking pretty distressed after being dug out of their bed and ripped apart.  I found it heartbreaking to look at them, knowing the brutality they had suffered and how alive and joyful they had looked just days ago.  I hope they survive.

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On my way back from picking up the hoses I saw a robin on the pavement in the turn lane in the middle of a busy four-lane road.  I wasn't sure if he was alive, but it looked like he was standing.  I turned around immediately, parked my car, and rushed back to the road where the robin was.  I waited as a couple cars rushed by and then went over to him.

He was alive! and not bloody, but he did not look right.  I imagined he had collided with a car.  I started to move toward him to pick him up and move him out of the road, and was surprised when he flew up and away from me, thankfully toward the park and away from the traffic.  

He landed in the turning lane of the exit for the park's parking lot.  I stood there for a moment, studying his movements to try to understand his condition.  A car started moving toward us to exit the parking lot and I motioned about the bird.  The car went by us.  

A moment later a van pulled up and a mother and her young daughter rushed out to me and the bird.  She told me she was so glad that I had stopped and that they had seen the bird ten minutes before, but had to get to an appointment.



It had been there at least ten minutes.

So many had passed by the bird and not stopped. 

An appointment is more important than a life?


The robin took flight again, heading slightly further into the park and closer to where other robins were searching for worms.  I told the lady I was going to call the local wildlife animal rehabilitation center to see what they recommended.  She thanked me for stopping and I thanked her as well.  They left.  

I called the center and explained what I had observed.  The lady at the center told me I could bring the robin in to have it checked out, that it might have a "little birdy concussion."

After hanging up, I walked over to my car, took a reusable shopping bag from my trunk, and walked over to the robin, preparing to bundle him in the bag if he was in need of rehabilitation.

He wasn't moving much, just standing in one place.  When I tried to move toward him he would hop away from me.  For a while I just sat, observing him.  He wasn't looking for worms like the other robins.  I did a little digging to see if I could find a worm for him, but without success.  When I would move toward him he would move away, and then after a moment his eyes would start to close.  If I moved again his eyes would open up again and he would move a little further away, and then his eyes would start to close again.  

I saw another robin find a worm and moved quickly toward her.  She dropped the worm and I tossed it over to the robin I was observing.  He didn't show any interest, but instead moved away from me.  I tried several times to give the worm to him, but with no success.  

I was feeling bad about stealing the worm from the robin who had found it, and also for the worm who was bleeding and being tossed about, (not to mention I had extended the length of the worm's suffering by stealing him from the robin who would have quickly eaten him).  

The robin wouldn't take the worm.  My intent was to win his approval and nourish him by feeding him the worm, but instead I found myself being more intimidating to him--"chasing" him with the worm.  Shortly after this "chase" however I saw him looking for his own worm--that was reassuring.

Over a period of about an hour, I had seen the robin go from paralyzed on the pavement, in the middle of four lanes of traffic, to taking flight, hoping away, and searching for worms.  Part of me wondered if I should take him to the wildlife rehab center, to be checked out and observed, but I didn't want to put him through more stress, especially if it was unnecessary stress.  He didn't seem to want to be captured and seemed to be recovering quickly.  I said a prayer and left him there to stay wild and recover naturally.  I started walking back to my car, turning back a couple times, wondering if I was making the right decision.  I feel that I did.  I hope he is doing well.
 

Meditation under the Moon

Many people move through this park everyday, walking, jogging, biking, and playing frisbee golf.  But what a different experience to become part of a place and feel a sense of connectedness, rather than just passing through.  Tonight I sat down in the park and watched as the sky darkened and the light from the stars gradually became visible.  I layed down in the grass and looked up at the moon.  I felt my body melt into the uneven contours of the ground below me.

It was very different to be lying down outside rather than in my bed.  In my bed I feel separated from all other life, but outside I became a part of the earth below me and everything around me.  A light wind brushed gently against my skin at varying speeds.  I watched birds and ducks fly by and listened to the early evening bird songs and cricket symphonies.  I smelled the fresh scents of spring and felt the cool air around me and filling my lungs when I breathed in.  Under the expanse of moonlit sky I felt very small.  

The moon did not seem that far away.  It was a different experience to just lie there for several minutes looking up at it, observing it, suspended in space and unmoving, shining brightly.

Volunteering at the Community Garden

Time for a new season to start.

Strawberries from previous year.

We separated clumps of chives from previous year and planted them in the corners of several of the beds.

We planted seeds and labeled what we planted.

Spinach grown here.

Once the seeds were planted we compacted the soil around the seeds by stepping on the rows.

The spring sun shining on our newly planted beds.

It was a beautiful day to be outside in the spring sun!  Three of us worked on planting several beds with seeds and transplanting chives.  Digging into the soil revealed a world rich with worms.  I felt uncomfortable digging into the soil knowing I was digging into living beings.  I felt like I was intruding into a world I did not understand and felt guilty knowing I was probably cutting into worms and other life as I dug.  I stopped using the tool and started using my hands to dig, but was not very effective when I got down to the more compacted soil.  I also felt uncomfortable watching as the chives were dug out of the ground, thrown down, and ripped apart.  When I mentioned my discomfort to the farmer who was helping us he told me that they would come back stronger, and that more chives would grow if they were separated.  But I think that when something is hurt it is never as strong and whole as its original state even if repair and growth takes place.  And what gives us the right to harm other beings?--Especially beings that are helping to give us food.

I have heard of no-till farming and am interested in learning more.  I wonder if there is a better way for us to farm to better imitate nature and be more gentle and respectful, and not destructive of other beings.

Dusk Meditation

First star visible as day fades into night

Watching the sunset and the clouds gently change shape and color

Listening to the robins sing

hop along

one in each tree

Gentle change

Happy songs

Crisp air

Calm

Bug flies by, on a mission,

doesn't seem to notice me noticing him

The world is coming alive from its winter sleep

I feel at peace

Welcomed

Like I belong

Not in danger

Not unwanted

The cool air fills my lungs,

refreshes my being

Looking up into the vast depth of blue sky above

cleanses my soul

All our trivial human frustrations fade to unimportance

God is in control

All is calm here

All is well.


This reminds me of a quote by Anne Frank when she was hiding from the Nazis:

"The best remedy for those who are frightened, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere they can be alone, alone with the sky, nature, and God.  For then and only then can you feel that everything is as it should be and that God wants people to be happy amid nature's beauty and simplicity.  As long as this exists, and that should be forever, I know that there will be solace for every sorrow, whatever the circumstance.  I firmly believe that nature can bring comfort to all who suffer."