At ground level

I've got the itch, not the kind that requires antibiotics or steroid creams, but the itch to dig my fingers deep into the soil and plant things. There's a railroad tie planter out front with lots of open space and the rain-washed scent of lilac that delicately wrapped me yesterday as I took out the garbage made me yearn for more color and scents to greet me all year long. Think there can't be scents in the winter? There are, especially when melting snow releases the clean scent of pines and evergreens in the weak but warming sunlight. A year of scents is something to work for and maintain.

Although I've given up the heights, here at ground level I have gained the earth and the opportunity to play in the dirt. I had a little container garden and a couple of spider plants but only the container garden gave me any hint of scent. I may even go over to Rick's Nursery and pick out a rose bush or two, maybe something in a climber, to go with the herbs and flowers I'll plant to draw butterflies, bees and hummingbirds. I miss the hummingbirds that weren't supposed to live up at the cabin but swarmed around the feeder when I put it out. I may have to fight off raccoons again, but nothing comes without a price.

I feel as though being close to the earth is grounding me, giving me back that innate sense of season and weather that I gained at the cabin. This isn't the cabin with it's seclusion and profusion of wildlife and trees, but it's close. It's peaceful here despite the faint sounds of traffic and children as though I'm on an island in the midst of a river, separate but still connected by a slender bridge of sound.

As someone recently suggested, I'm going to venture over to the ARC and maybe to Goodwill to see if I can find a box planter and some containers to put on the deck. I might even run across a little table and chairs for the deck, with or without an umbrella, and a charcoal grill. I still have the seeds and peat pots I brought with me from the cabin and now it's time to put them to good use. Dad must have granted me just a little of his green abilities because even in the rarefied atmosphere of the sun room seeds sprouted for me and grew. I can't use the spider plants as examples since it's nearly impossible to kill them.

Each morning I eagerly open the blinds and the windows and breathe deeply of the dewy scent of lilac and I have even caught sight of an insect or flash of fur as the nocturnal wildlife heads for cover when dawn faintly blushes through the trees. There is such a wealth of beauty in even the smallest glimpse of life and, despite my fatal allergy, I look forward to the sound of busy bees dusted with golden pollen dipping and zigzagging along a bed of flowers . I found a picture of a dragonfly covered in dew that I made into wallpaper to remind me of the gem-bright and breathtaking beauty of the simplest creature caught in a moment of rest.




That is all. Disperse.