Green Tribe of Belonging

 Rather than being alone on this earth, we live among an enormous landscape of living creatures, large and small. It blows my mind to think about it. Everywhere I look here at my desk, there is evidence: the sparrow eating echinacea seeds outside my window, the cobweb behind the file cabinet, the geraniums blooming on the sill. We exist within a multitude of others. And we, the creatures of the earth, have formed a trillion ways of communicating with each other. We are so used to this phenomenon that mostly we don't notice it happening. But when you stop to look more closely at what is going on around you, it is remarkable and awe-inspiring. Even when I was young, 7 or 8, I became fascinated with communication. I had pen pals all over the globe, and my favorite time of day was when the mailman drove up to our mailbox with letters. It was so exciting to be actually exchanging words, stories, life experiences with people around my age who lived so very, very far away. By the time I w

 One night last week, my porch was filled with spectators, community members who were there to witness the opening of a bud on my night-blooming-cereus plant. We sat around talking, checking on the status of the bloom and enjoying the evening air. One 7-year-old even brought her sleeping bag and sat sketching the stages of the bud opening. It always feels magical when this unlovely gangly plant shows off its spectacular flower, a bloom that opens after dark and is finished by morning. It's a once-a-year event, and that makes it special. I had been sure it would happen while I was on my trip, but it waited until I got back. My good luck... I did a bit of research on the plant. Mine is one of four main kinds of night blooming cereus. It's Latin name is Epiphyllum exipelalum, Queen of the Night. The other three varieties bear fruit, but apparently this one doesn't. I wondered why. Is it not near enough to its rightful pollinators? Too far north, too far from its native home? I

 I climbed into my car exactly two weeks ago and headed east, then south. I sped along the countryside, a smile on my face, following my impulse to travel far. Fortunately, my daughter April and her family were glad for a visit from me, which gave me a ready destination: Asheville, North Carolina. I lived in those mountains for 35 years and it still feels like home. Driving across eight states, I went through a quilt of different land forms. Whenever I was out of the cities, it was wonderful to see the skies, fields, and forests, and watch flocks of birds flying south just like me. And in the evenings, the huge red sun slowly going below the horizon painted everything with a brush of glowing rose. I took a new route this time, avoiding some of the busiest super-highways. And at the end of the second day, I left the Ohio rolling hills and crossed into Kentucky's mountains. There I took a deep breath. It was good to come into the nestled comfort of those tall tree-covered ridges. And