Green Tribe of Belonging

Whatever the Odds When I look out to the world and see a hopeless mess, When it seems there is no way of righting our wrongs, And the future looks dim and depressing, It makes me shrink inside and forget hope. We truly have lost our way, the intrepid human. We wanted to gain control of everything But we didn’t see that we are just a small part Of the whole. And we have broken the connections. The earth may recover and regain it’s health But we are burning our own bridges. And I am part of that destructive force. My own family of man, my own family. Do I despair? Give up and sit idle? Or might it be better to find a glimmer of hope And follow it with persistence and effort. Engaging in the work of healing. Yes, I will do that. I will open my heart To hope and do my best to repair the damage, Spend my energy toward positive change Whatever the odds may be. NF 6/27/23

Here's a poem I just wrote:  Turning, Turning Sun in the heavens, earth turning, turning. Season to season, and day turns to night. Every year passes, another comes to us. Each one brings gifts with the changes of light. Hard cold of winter, darkness and quiet. Only a memory are warm days and green. We gather together, hold safe every person, Raising our hopes as we summon in spring. Then life bursts forth and all earth is blooming. Sun shines so warmly and gentle the rain. As the earth wakens, creatures are moving, Plants shooting upward, ripening grain. Year in the middle, light at its longest. Heat in the morning, midday and night. Workers are busy, at the night tired, Heyday of summer, all life’s delight. Then comes the autumn, growing is slowing. Bounty of harvest, stomachs are full. Light is receding, temperature cooling. Now we anticipate life at a lull. Back now to winter, another year weathered. Older but wiser we are, every one. Each season different, each one a treas

 I've just returned from North Carolina where I attended both my grandsons' graduations, one from middle school and one from high school. It was a fun trip, and Asheville was lush and beautiful. I was hoping it had rained while I was gone, but no. Parts of Iowa are still in a very severe drought. Yesterday I drove out to the family pond and cabin in the heart of farming country, and the fields of beans and corn were very sad. The corn is still alive but not growing. The beans looked worse, just kind of lying on the ground. Farmers are really worried, for today there was a slight chance of rain, and then none in the forecast for quite a long time. So many times in the last two months, the chances of rain diminished as the day grew closer. Even though there was a 30% chance of rain last night, we were trying not to get our hopes up. Yet around 1:00 o'clock I awoke to thunder and wet sidewalks. I went back to sleep, opening my window wide in case that tempted the rain! And whe

 I was going to call this post "Drought" for we have been in an awful drought here in eastern Iowa for the past month. But last night we got a little rain, and though it was a tiny amount, it was enough to make a difference. When I walked out this morning, even though the ground was dry and the sun was still hot, there was an amazing vitality to the world that had been missing before the rain. In a drought, everything pulls inward, shrinking down to preserve what little moisture it still has. Plants have switched to preservation mode, in crisis, holding on. We have been watering our gardens here at Prairie Hill, but it's just enough to keep things alive. And it also has been uncharacteristically hot for the past weeks, temperatures in the 90's. That's the kind of weather we sometimes get in August, but for it to be that hot in May is unusual. It's just when things are coming out of their winter's hibernation, a time for quick growth and expansion. This yea