weeds

It is clearly spring here and there is a lot to do in the yard which makes me excited but also puts me under some pressure. The clock is ticking and I have to get my seedlings started and in the ground soon! There is soil to prepare and plants to remove and gosh I really need to get serious about building a better system for my enormous compost adventure. I wish I had already drawn a picture for this post of the tiny buds and the delicate pink flower like leaves busting out of them on the Japanese maple, but time is in short supply. I am working hard on publishing the first book, writing a second, setting up a website and or course raising the two enchantresses I have, not to mention all the housewifey things I do every day.

BUT the garden has been calling me and I did manage to get the girls out into the dirt over the weekend. We started by pulling some weeds. There was something gargantuan growing near the compost pile that I had let get big and as I pulled hard at the root, the girls were cheering me on and poking at it with their little pink shovels. I managed to pull the thing up with one hand. They told me I was really strong and danced beside me all the way to the green bin where we deposited the monster. But if that one was going to go, there was another to face. Something had grown up among my Calendula flowers that for some reason I actually thought (or convinced myself) might be some Snapdragons that I had planted which had never come up. Clearly it was a weed now that it was almost my height and flowerless. (Duh!) But this sucker was harder to pull. It hung on for dear life and I had to dig around it to try and loosen its powerful grip. Its roots were wedged in under my studio where I meditate every day and I started thinking about the weeds that have been growing in my consciousness and how there are these terrible voices that try to sabotage me all the time and I used that image to fight the good fight and I pulled and pulled and grunted and screamed and the girls were telling me, "Give up mommy!" because they could tell I was almost in tears but then it gave a little and that got me going, pulling with every last drop of strength, my fingers burning from the tiny prickly hairs along the main stem of this beast. I felt it give a little more. Then, before I was ready it released all its tiny tendrils from the earth at once and with that jolt I lost my balance, falling back on my butt with the beast in my hands over my head raining dirt on my face while the girls screamed with excitement and fear. "Are you okay Mommy??" Yes I was fine, better than fine! I pulled that &#(^#(%*& out and I was feeling pretty good. Next!

I was determined that we would plant a few seeds during the equinox and reluctant to go to the nursery for supplies because I knew I'd spend more than I wanted to there, so at 4pm I was scraping together whatever I had on hand, which turned out to be a few packets of vegetable seeds and flower seeds left over from winter planting, some corn kernels I collected from last summer's minute harvest and some potting soil that was suspiciously damp and slightly foul smelling. It had been sitting out in the rain and I guess the dirt got wet and the wet was trapped in the plastic bag for a while and maybe the soil had gotten moldy or something. I don't know. But it was all we had so we used it, the girls gently tucking tiny seeds under thin blankets of it and I thought: if nothing comes up it doesn't matter. It's the act of planting the seeds that is important. It is symbolic, and my children especially respond to the symbolic gesture more than the outcome. So imagine my surprise when watering them this morning I saw that the tiny green beginnings of new life are springing forth. I guess the soil was okay after all. Either that or they will be sickly and die and we will learn some lessons that way.

This Hotel is Like my Brain: Step Outside and it's Beautiful

The carpet in the hallway is a dark forest green with mustard yellows squiggly designs that run along the edges like the lights in an aircraft guiding you to the exit. But the yellow lines don’t get you out, they lock you in, unless you know how to escape. The hallways all look the same and there is always something humming, some white noise to keep you blind from the sounds outside. The birds chirping, the rain falling, the wind rustling the leaves of perfect palm trees that were grown somewhere else and transplanted here.

The sun is shining outside. Minutes ago I realized the potential of a rainbow. The sound of rain coupled with sunlight on the carpet next to my foot. I found my shoes in a hurry and rushed out of the room, patting my back pocket for my key card as I sped out the ungainly door to my room. I have two long hallways and a staircase, all windowless with the dark green carpet, to get through before I am outside. But once there, I am met with magnificence. No rainbow, but the sky is full of bright, puffy, yellow tinged clouds highlighting the snow covered mountains in the distance. I just have to ignore the forest green construction fence across the street where they are building yet another sand colored cement building. Can you still call it the desert when no part of it is deserted? I almost go back upstairs, satisfied that I can escape the confines of my mind/hotel room anytime I want. But I decide I need to find something untouched. Just a patch of real desert earth, before I can go back in.

The sidewalk is manicured but done in a way that makes some sense. The small trees and shrubs are all natives, nicely spaced and planted with little clusters of succulents and cacti arranged around rocks every so often. The cement path I am following is not a straight line like the road beside it, but instead follows an S curve so that you can’t really see how far it goes. At first I think it will end at the next driveway but after passing that I realize it is not part of any golf course or condo complex. It actually belongs to the municipality. Nice.

I want to see some birds and just then I hear a little buzz and look up to see a hummingbird perched on a branch a few feet away. I am standing next to a golf course and the salmon stucco wall around it is low enough that I can peer over into the rough edges where they have let nature take its course to the extent that a lot of birds and other animals are finding it habitable. There are a slew of little brown birds with black stripes on their heads running in and out of a thorny bush. The golf course is so big I can't see how big it is. Lots of pretty rolling green. Some movement under a bush gets me to stay a bit longer and soon a large desert hare is staring at me.

I need to feel this connection with nature to get back to what I need to write. Some writing is like pulling teeth out of old gums. Other writing is like skating on a frozen pond. Smooth and gliding, like the birds. It’s the connection to the larger world that I am craving and that the hotel seems to block. Like dark thoughts that come up and question the validity of what I am doing, I have to escape to this. Trees and birds save me every time.

I keep walking and following the pretty curving sidewalk, trying to ignore the sound of traffic flowing by me at high speed. The desert people are all insulated in their cars and I am out here, unnoticed. I stop to admire the delicate leaves on a tree. I love its low branches with the very tiny leaves hanging in neat rows off long stems. The light moves right through them so their pale olive color glows. It has gorgeous seed pods that are long and thin with little babies nestled inside like a pea pod, but flatter. This one is brown and elegant.

I walk by a low wall that is containing a small patch of empty dirt. It is maybe 10 by 10 feet. I wonder what it is for. Maybe there are no plans for it. Maybe it didn’t fit into the plans. Maybe it exists in some no man’s land between two plans, but looking around that doesn’t make sense. I am still alongside the golf course and the little wall that surrounds this bit of nothing is the same color and thickness as the taller wall that surrounds the golf course. No idea.

I am tired of the constant flow of traffic. It's keeping my mind from relaxing and the birds from getting close. There is a sign for something called “Freedom Park” and I wonder how far that is. This city is different from the dusty wasted towns a little bit further east where civilization falls off just a few yards from the side of the road, and the storefronts look like plywood cutouts, and the empty lots behind them are littered with abandoned projects that the wind and the sun have destroyed. This is Palm Desert and it's like a mini Palm Springs. It’s all done with a lot of cement and stucco so all the buildings look new. I pass another entrance to yet another complex of condos on the left. This one has a water feature made to look like a mini waterfall flowing over a rock staircase. It is lined with blooming flowers that would never exist here on their own: Bright pink Impatiens and Snapdragons that drink water like marathon runners. All the lush greenery they use as edging makes it look fresh and alive but in a cynical sort of way. I am still hoping to find that bit of earth where I might see what was here before they built and planted all this stuff.

I come to a corner. I can taste the disappointment of finding that Freedom Park is a garden of cement and commemorative sculptures or something, so I turn right. And there it is. Could it really be an empty lot? Just being away from the constant traffic is a big relief and I start to see where I am. On my right is the golf course. To my left is the back side of a shopping complex. Where the stores end there is just a bit of cement with two dumpsters on it and then just open space. It has the remnants of a fence made of thin wood slats and wire around it, but most of that is lying on the ground like an old tee shirt, half buried in the sand. I wonder if it belongs to some holdout who refused years of lucrative offers. I am so excited. The street I am on appears to go no where so there's no traffic on it besides a large truck, the kind that is basically a big rack for carrying cars, idling. I try and ignore it but the engine is so loud it's spoiling my pathetic attempt to escape civilization.

I cross over to the empty lot and walk around. It looks exactly the way it's supposed to. The earth is sandy, and the bushes are low dusted greenish mounds that look like they could survive anywhere. There are giant ant holes with droves of large ants climbing in and out of them, performing incredible feats. Some are working together. One is dragging a small stick that for him is the size of a large tree trunk. He drags it a while, working tirelessly to get it up and over a small pebble and finally abandons the project. There is some trash but most of it is the same color as the sand.

There are a few trees with the lovely leaves I like and I gather some twigs. A few bushes are covered with tiny bright pink flowers and I pick a handful. There is another tree that has little tiny yellow flowers in the shape of puff balls that fall down along its leafy twigs. There are little thorns protecting it but I choose a branch that is small and struggling and bravely tear it from the tree, saying thank you as I pull.

I turn around to see the truck is finally leaving but I don’t care. I got what I came for. Even if it was a little disappointing. Even if I had harbored hopes of making it to the edge of all the development, I could see now what a foolish hope that was, unless I was willing to sacrifice the entire afternoon. I had found the patch I imagined. Just this little piece of untouched earth gave me what I needed.