The cleomes are a frowsy, stalky jungle in late summer and early fall. Their blooms begin at the bottom and climb to the top leaving a heaping helping of seeds behind. They really should be cut back but I haven’t the heart to do it yet. Every morning when I walk down the back steps to the stable, the remaining blooms are covered with honey bees and bumble bees, and their buzzing song is my morning doxology.
The women from College Park Baptist Church in Greensboro were at the farm this weekend for a retreat. They are a mixed bag as most church groups are...young and old, single and married, various colors... and a wonderfully motley crew. At night, Michael and I would lie in bed and listen to the humming and buzzing coming from the living room. Laughter was frequent and food and wine were in abundant supply.
This morning I listened to a sad and disturbing report about the state of our world...global warming, the death of some species of birds because of the changing climate...and my heart wept for this grand old Mother Earth who is struggling to maintain our home in spite of our carelessness. We have been given so much...bee songs, bird songs, the rain songs on tin roofs, the crickets singing, bullfrog croak songs, donkey heehaws and rooster crowing, windsong in the trees and grasses...life abundant and free surrounds us and we do not seem to see or care to protect this most precious gift.
It is overwhelming to consider the vastness of the problem and I feel helpless. I am not. I can leave the cleomes until there are no more blooms. I can recycle. I can limit my trips to town. I can hang clothes out to dry. I can turn out lights. I can use cloth napkins. I can open my home and our farm to those who live in cities so they can hear and taste and feel this wonderful creation in a new way. I must remember I am not in charge of the whole earth, just my small part of it. And like pennies in a piggy bank, small acts multiplied can fill the earth with saving graces.
The life of honey and laughter, faith and doubt, joy and sorrow is abundant and free but it will cost a fortune requiring your undivided living in the present. Pay attention. God is right in front of us and we often pass by with our heads tilted downward looking at machines and listening to faraway voices.
Dear One, thank you for this most amazing gift of life. It is a short span of time but wonderful and terrifying in its abundance. Help me not to take it for granted. Keep me walking in your light so I may see clearly your presence in all that surrounds me. I give thanks for death for it is in endings that new beginnings come. And as winter approaches and life goes underground, keep my memory of abundant life fresh so I may have hope for the new life yet to come. Amen.
