Green Tribe of Belonging

  Compassion for Weeds My heart goes out to the plants we call weeds. How would we feel if we were treated as unwelcome even though we were beautifully growing somewhere? How do these strong and resilient unwanted plants feel when they are hated, eradicated, and labeled as undesirable? In truth, they are the strongest plants in our ecosystems, growing without human assistance, filling their own needs. Don’t we owe them our admiration? At least a nod of congratulation? I think of them as brave explorers, journeying through the world, finding just the right place to grow, to mature and spread seeds. These plants have evolved over time into their own unique forms, all different, all with special qualities that help them survive. Some have developed root systems that spread underground. Some  grow winged seeds that are carried by the wind. Some stretch tall enough to catch the sun even in a crowded field. Some attract the perfect foragers who plant for future generations. When I pull out a

 These are challenging days we're all living through on this earth. Yes, there have been hard times before, but what we know now is that environmentally, these hard times are directly threatening our home. Our home is the friendly and supportive planet we've been nourished and held by all our lives. When we have the courage to look at the statistics, to look at the projections into the future, it can be so scary that things feel hopeless. It might feel like we should just bury our heads in the sand, stay home and wait for the end! Even when I'm getting joy out of watching nature documentaries, always now at the end there is a warning: this wonderful natural world will not last unless we do something to halt the progress of climate change. Now. So though I am left filled with beautiful images from the films, I end up being reminded that we are in a crisis of huge proportions. All of us.  When we're alone in our homes, being reminded of the climate crisis and asked to do

  Pulled into Wildness Late afternoon on a hot and humid day. As I walk home, I sense a change in the air, A pause around me as birds stop their singing, A heaviness in the atmosphere, a quietness   that is the beginning of something coming. A panorama of clouds fills the wide open sky, Hazy and dull in the east, dark and looming in the west, And in the sky’s center, storm clouds moving fast toward me, Changing shape as they travel,  hovering nearer the ground. Lightning streaks from high to low as thunder rumbles in the distance. I stand still, waiting, watching, my breath coming slowly. A solitary raindrop falls at my feet, and then another. And suddenly a torrent of rain comes down around me   as I rush to the shelter of my front porch. Loud sounds of raindrops fill the air, steady and hard. And then comes the wind, whipping tree limbs,  Whirling the garden of flowers and ferns nearby. And piercing through the storm blares the siren from City’s center: Tornado warning! Be alert! Tak