Each moment drops a seed of life
Into the depths, past heart
and sinew to my soul…
from bitter root to fragrant flower
a garden there that bends
and groans and stretches forth
from dark to light and light to dust
with bushels full of green and lush
and memories to hold.
kat ~ updated August 8, 2015
Nature can teach us a thing or two about grace and adaptability. At least my little volunteer tomato plant has much to say on the subject.
I am certain that tomato plant would have been quite happy to thrive, unnoticed among the weeds on the rocky slope in my back yard. But, of course, we wouldn’t have that! Ripping it from its cozy hillside, roots dangling proves the point that humans have a need to control the wild greenness around us. In truth, we humans like to control everything. But audacious nature is determined to thrive no matter what life throws at it. And that gives me hope.
Give a plant a bit of soil (even if it is confined to a paint bucket), water (this, of course is a deal breaker as any fledgling gardener is aware), a position where the sun can warm it, and a little structure so it doesn’t lose its balance when it bears fruit (because that, after all, is what plants are born to do), and even a wilted, transplanted tomato plant can and will thrive!
People are a lot like volunteer tomato plants. At times we may find ourselves uprooted from the original course we had planned, with no semblance of control, roots dangling, exposed. Sometimes all we need is a soft fertile spot to settle, to establish roots, a bit of nurturing, a touch of structure to ground and balance us. Given a few simple things it is possible, inevitable even, that we can thrive and even bear fruit doing whatever it is we were born to do and be.
And I know this because sometimes nature grabs me between the ears to remind me. I need to be reminded. Especially those times when I find that I am not as in charge as I think I am. Yes! There is hope for me no matter the circumstances of my scuttled plans because a limp, uprooted, audacious tomato plant told me so!
no ceaseless pleas
for favors from
a deity beyond, nor
simple conversations
‘tween some small
imagined voices, nor
yearly rites of gluttony
and sport peppered
with thanks, no final
utterance, eleventh
hour recompense.
a wisp of breath
more subtle,
effortless in present
tense, embodying
the senses in a dance
of elements, where
answers aren’t the
aim and questions are
irrelevant, this is the
prayer I pray for you
with utmost reverence.
kat ~July 22, 2015
(This poem was featured on Women’s Spiritual Poetry Blogspot on August 19, 2015)
it is hard not
to judge you judging
me, though Love calls
me to turn my cheek
to hand, to bare my soul
again and then some,
suffering darts of pompous
intercession from log-filled eyes,
my tainted flesh assuming.
but Love will have the final
say, and glean the mild sheep from
the gloating goats.
here veiled ‘neath mantle of
pure Grace and nothing
more, to tremble from
self-righteous charity, to
offer cheek to hand, my
soul to bare and not to
judge…and not to
judge…and not to
judge… but love.
kat ~ july 20, 2015
They call them “volunteer plants”. Perfectly good seeds that sprout in random places without the help of a deliberate seed sower. For the life of me I can’t imagine why a perfectly good tomato seed would “volunteer” to grace the rocky slope in my back yard. But there it was, thriving midst the weeds when my grandson found it!
Much too great a treasure to be tossed, he rescued it from the weed heap, roots intact, presenting it to be potted! With every single ounce of green in me (single ounce pretty much describes it!) we managed to find an empty paint pail, some unused potting soil where I had buried other plants alive, and a tomato cage to support what would, or at least should, become a bushel of plump rosy fruit!
The first few days were touch and go, the poor plant’s limbs drooping over its wire cage. I’m sure by now it realized the dreadful mistake it had made choosing my yard. I think I even heard its faint screams…”help meeee”…pleading, as only a failing tomato can, for someone to rescue it! I watered it, moved it into the sun, then to the shade, feeling a bit like a new parent. What to do? Too wet, too dry? I didn’t expect it to survive, but I was determined, mostly for my grandson’s sake, who would be back in a few weeks to tend the lawn again, no doubt eager to examine the budding life left in my charge.
I don’t know quite how to explain it. A miracle maybe? Just two weeks later, that limp little tomato plant has beaten the odds and even has three plump green globes…real tomatoes…to show for it! Not that I can take any true credit for this amazing turn of events. I am, after all, a notorious serial plant killer! But a bit of natural intervention, the rain…the overcast skies…the stifling humidity of the past few weeks were perhaps not sent to torment me, but to save that little plant from doom and to teach me something about myself.
The lesson? Before owning…believing the negative labels I tend to give myself based on the past, I should take my cues from Nature who presents us with mornings every…single…day…that are new and full of potential, where anything is possible…even tomatoes from a reluctant gardener like me…
…and I’m thinking out loud here…I just might want to plant a few tomato plants of my own when next season comes around! 😊
~ kat…”budding grasshopper gardener in training” (formerly known as “notorious serial plant killer”) ~ Summer 2015
like mercury colliding... 