This afternoon, I weeded a garden in misty rain. All around me, a trifling chill, like early spring. My gloved fingers immersed in soil moist from persistent showers, pull at a web of roots feeding healthy but undesirable greenery like blood vessels to a tumor. The beetles I disturb scurry in a frenzy as their status quo collapses. A frighteningly large spider, burdened by her corpulent egg sac, totters hesitantly, then stills as she assesses the potential threat. I eagerly move to a different section, and give her--and myself--some space.
I reach underneath a shrub to grab the clever growth that shelters there. I firm up my posture and tug as tiny leaves release the drops of rain that have been collecting. The dewy droplets cascade down my arm, one by one then together gathering unto one another, soft as petals, this shower of loveliness.
When I realize. I am going to be happy in this place. In this strange climate where weeding in the rain seems more right than weeding in the sun. In this place of extremes where it can be the end of summer one day and the beginning of spring the next. In this place where I am learning who I really want to be. By myself. For myself.
Myself.
This made me so happy to read. :)
Posted by: Kate (i {heart} papers) | June 12, 2011 at 10:19 PM
oh, cath.
you have such a lovely way with words. i understand how difficult and challenging it is to move 2000 miles across the country. everything is different. you are different, and yet you are still the same. be patient. it all takes time, and slowly it feels right, and familiar, and deeply comforting.
love you and miss you.
marty ferraro
Posted by: marty ferraro | June 12, 2011 at 11:15 PM
Beautiful post, Cath. It looks like you have really found your home! Happy Monday to you!
Posted by: Sylvia Nelson | June 13, 2011 at 12:12 AM
What a beautiful way of expressing your love for pulling weeds, Cath! I, too was weeding in my garden the other day, however, there were NO poetic words coming to mind :o) I think because here in FL the "weeding process" is a constant, there is no break from season to season. I really can't appreciate it as much as when I lived in New England where one looks forward to Spring and Summer chores outside. Stay well and happy, sweet friend. {{{HUGS}}}
Posted by: Helen F. | June 13, 2011 at 01:21 PM