Green Tribe of Belonging

The poem below is one I wrote in the summer, but the same feeling is true for me today. All this wonderful spring growth is coming up. Gardens have been planted by hopeful gardeners. Tiny seedlings have been transplanted as well as new hardy perennials. But we need rain! Every day the percentage chance goes down. It is Thirsty Thursday here at Prairie Hill, and we are out doing tasks like watering. (And will gather at 5:00 to quench our thirst and feed our stomachs.) We have many trees, shrubs and perennials like raspberries up on our hill who need water badly, and since they are not reachable by hoses, we have to drive our "Mule" up with a load of water. It is indeed "Thirsty Thursday" for the plants as well as us. A rain dance would be appropriate today!  Rain Dance god of summer weather, who brings wind to chase away mosquitoes      and freshen still air. Who shepherds clouds to cool thick heat     and turn colors vivid deep. Who pulls up the heavy sun at ho

 One community that is immensely important to us and all of life is out of our sight. We creatures who are so dependent upon seeing, so focused on the images before us, tend to be blind to the community that lives under our feet. Of course that's true. Out of sight, out of mind. Or maybe never in our minds in the first place. We think of soil as "dirty" and try to get it off ourselves quickly. "Soiled" is a negative term, one that makes us cringe internally. So we don't think about dirt as good. We walk over the earth and seldom think of what's below our feet. That's not a reprimand. I am this way too. But ever since I did some research for an article I was writing several years ago, I've been fascinated with the community of life beneath the surface. You almost have to get down to the size of a tiny bug, at least in your mind, to be able to think about this. So many of the creatures that populate this ecosystem are microscopic. Microscopic and m

 I know there are plants that most people feel have no place in cultivated ground, or around homes, or in lawns. Weeds, we call them. It is true that there are times when I do pull volunteer plants out of the garden. Yet the truth is that no plant is really on my unimportant list. When something that I didn't plant comes up in my garden, my first response is curiousity. In my mind, plants are such miracles in themselves. They have evolved into millions of varieties, each one with its own distinctive characteristics. Each one fitting into the web of life, playing its part. Right now, many plants have come up in my garden, and I have pulled no "weeds" yet. Some of these plants are perennials, and I celebrate when I see that they've survived the winter and are ready for another growing season. Others, like dandelions, are plants I've not planted myself. But I hesitate to pull them. Dandelions are wonderful food, and I am always glad to see them. Other plants showing

 As I was thinking about interaction, interdependence, and the amazing examples of each in our biosphere, I suddenly realized that at least for me, it would be helpful to view my own body as an example of community. To create the best health, my different organs need to cooperate with each other, communicate, and function smoothly at their interfaces. I love this concept! Rather than identifying discrete problems in our health, like high blood pressure, high cholesterol, heart problems, upset stomach, or headache, we can think about the whole system and how one organ affects the others. In giving care to one organ, we may be beneficially affecting others. And then there is the micro-community in our digestive system of beneficial bacteria and other microorganisms.  As in all ecosystems, some things work harmoniously with other members, and some are disruptive. So when penicillin kills the beneficial organisms in our digestive system (a disruption), we know enough to eat and drink thing

 I've been thinking about community lately. All kinds of community. When you choose to live in an intentional community, you give community-life a lot of thought before you join. You have to want to be in a cooperative and interactive living space. You'll be agreeing to share outdoor space with others, instead of having it all to yourself. You'll often be thinking about the wellbeing of the whole. not just your own. You will be giving up independence in favor of interdependence.  Once you're there, you gradually get to know each personality in your community. You notice that everyone has different skills, so together you have a wide band width. You also learn which people are easiest for you to hang out with, which ones share similar interests, which ones stretch you as you find common ground with them. And you find, if your community is a healthy one, that living together this way is far better than living more isolated in your individual home. You and others work out

  Yesterday I went out to our family farm to dig up some perennials for my newer garden at Prairie Hill. And I found a dead deer in my old greenhouse. It had been there for quite some time, and it had been food for a variety of creatures. I imagine it starved. We had high drifts of snow covering everything for weeks, and it couldn't find enough food to survive. The greenhouse provided some shelter, and also some area not covered with snow, but nothing green.  I was sad to think of this deer and its relatives with so very little to sustain them. During all that snow-covered time, I had not been thinking of the deer and other creatures who need to browse, even in the winter. Seeing the deer made me think of another experience I had with a deer several years ago, while I was still living at the farm. I was heading toward Friends Meeting one Sunday morning, and as I was coming down our hill in the car, I encountered another deer with another sad ending. Here's a poem I wrote about