I am continually amazed at how living in nature creates such paradox for me.  The peace and quiet, the beauty of all things wild and the price to be paid for the frustration of humans interfering with what is wild!  The northern flickers are back this year, pecking holes in my siding and throwing the insulation to the wind, hoping to build another nest for a beloved mate.  I say another nest because last year, I graciously (or not so graciously!) put up a nesting box to keep them off of my siding.  The Wild Bird Store assured me they were territorial and once a family moved into the box they would run all other flickers off.  So, siding repaired and nesting box installed, I was looking forward to a single family flicker home in my part ot the country!  Well, that was last year and this is this year!  The nesting box has a mom and a pop coming an going.  And, yet, there are two more guys pecking my siding away!  The Wild Bird Store guy questioned "How could you be so lucky to have more than one family of nesting flickers?"  I want to know how I could be so UNLUCKY!  I came home with another nesting box for the side of my house, hoping to once again move the guys off the house and into a box.  I wonder if soon my house will just be a shell covered with nesting boxes :>)

 

I haven't found my meditation practice to be particularly helpful as I storm outside armed with a water bottle  and determined to send them back to the trees.  I can't just sit and feel the feelings as they destroy my home, as I destroyed theirs.  Ergo --- yes, another nesting box for this home wrecking little beast with a long pointed beak!

The spring storm will be here soon to bring rain and snow, and the plants will be so grateful for the delicious, nutritious drink of sky juice!!!  The sun is shining brightly from the west; it’s warm and windy outside.  But, just a glance to the south where the gray clouds hang above the earth gives the promise of spring rain.

 

The earth is parched here.  In my digging today I felt the resistance of prairie clay.  Compacted dirt starving…..for food, oxygen and water.  I only wanted to break up the soil for water to seep deeply into the roots of the thirsty plants and sow a few wildflower seeds adding a bit of gaiety to the somber greens of serious herbs and prairie grasses. I really understand how hard it is to accept change when there is protection in what is familiar.   It’s like the work we come here to do – feed our souls and grow.  We humans need not much more than what I am offering to the garden – a guide with heart to dig in life’s hard stuff, break it apart to expose the fraud of its existence, give it light and air, nutrients and water and then tend the results with loving care before digging in to turn the psyche again.  

 

In my second summer here, I noticed my anxiety rise as I looked for hints of green on last years new plantings.  Did they survive the cold winds of the high prairie?  Will they be as vibrant this year as last?  Why does it take so very long for them to look alive?  Tulips and daffodils further north (and 1200 feet lower in elevation) have already blossomed and wilted leaving only their green leaf coats behind to remind us they were here….and are now gone.  That anxiety is the space between what is now and was in the past or what may be in the future.  I trust in the intelligence of Mother Nature.  She reminds me spring flowers on the high plains will arrive later, when the time is just right.  It is not helpful to compare what has happened or may (or may not!) happen!   

 

Let me enjoy each leaf, each flower, each new life as it emerges at the perfect time.

 

My anxiety gives way to curiosity as I breathe and come back to the present moment….perfect as it is.