25 July 2011

Longhorns and Scrub Brush

Living in an extended drought in north Texas--where the meteorologists take rarified delight in reporting how very many days we've been in "triple digit temperatures"--isn't easy for one of a Nature-based Path.  The Lair's Cottage Garden is slowly wilting and crisping in the relentless sun...the deeply rich earth is cracking with the severity of the heat and dryness...the trees are even showing signs of stress.  It's difficult to embrace this situation and know that there is a plan in place...that all will be well.  The only plant that seems to still be thriving is my darling Brown Turkey fig--it's abundance belies the strife the Garden is enduring.

And so, we're in the high summer season...moving ever nearer Lughnasadh.  The daytime skies are piercing blue.  Soft pillows of poufy, white clouds whisp ever-so-gently overhead.  The earth--though in appearance dry and brittle--is covered in a melodious blanket of cicada burrs, sleepy sparrow chirrups, and the somnambulant buzzing of wasps and hornets.  At night, the cicadas give way to cricket trills and the lullaby of croaking toads at our Pond.

On my daily commute, I pass vast open ranchland.  This morning, the relentless heat and dryness was nearly forgotten.  Longhorn steer stood stalwart in an open field of scrub brush, but this field--part of a huge ranch in our county--was speckled with Prairie WindFlower, Purple Thistle, and the most riotous display of Cornflowers and Chickweed I've ever seen.  It was as if She was railing against the weather...showing us Her resiliancy and determination to bring the first of the Harvest festivals in with panache! 

I found my ability to embrace the wind and sun and brittle earth once more.  Blessed Be!

In the warmth of the summer Moonlight...
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2 comments:

  1. Some things like it hot...others wither and die...a place for everything I suppose...

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  2. This post is a stirring look at the natural environment around you, and the play of various forces across the natural world. I myself inhabit the Deep South, somewhat east of your garden, where the question isn't whether hell will be hot as hell, but rather, whether the everlasting inferno will be muggy. Because let me tell you, dry heat would be a nice change of pace! I can't complain too much. A thunderstorm just cooled things off some - for the next hour or two, anyway. It is funny how life finds ways to endure, even against the odds, and even when death seems like the dominant motif. Life finds a way! And so must we. Blessed Be!

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