They Changed My Mind

Before dawn, the downspouts from the roof gutters were dripping and pinging, the patio was damp and, noticing the wet sounds outside, my heart sank.  I'd heard big stories on the news services the night before.  Floods in Pakistan, extreme heat and wildfires in Russia, the oil disaster in the gulf, worry and threat of war, overpopulation.  Nothing any one person can feel effective against.  Up out of bed, I checked the weather report.  It called for a "heavy marine layer" again, all day.  The whole area was going to be socked in and cold, more than usual.  Awake but off center, I shuffled to the kitchen for coffee and thought about I could do.  

I tried writing.  No luck.  I mumbled to myself about my lack of progress while I deleted everything.  I tried all the other stuff that I usually do when I can't think of anything to write.  Cleaned things, sorted books, sifted through piles of notes and resifted them, rearranged items in the refrigerator.  Browsed online, looked at the sky, tried to imagine sunshine, ate a few snacks.  I got distracted by something and then got distracted from that.  I was not inspired by any of it.  

Exasperated, I made up my mind.  I needed to do something physical, some work, make a little progress so I could have something to show I'd not just been lying in the middle of the floor staring at the ceiling all day. I dressed in a fleece overshirt, thick T-shirt, work pants, gardening shoes, and stepped outside.  A cold wind grabbed me by the ears.

"It's freakin' January!" I heard myself squall.  Snow could fall and it would have been no colder, must have been 40 degrees with the wind chill added in.  How could Russia be burning up?  In all the gloom and gray, I saw hundreds of flowers bobbing and looking preposterously summery.  If I hadn't looked up and seen them, I would have scurried right back into the house.  

Against the logic that says everything should be frostbitten in this dour summer cold, my plants are ignoring the dreary weather and blooming like they live in the tropics.  The little darlings don't mock me.  Instead, their pure beauty wipes away my pessimism, changes my outlook.  Not a word said, and I'm standing a little taller and thinking, "It happens every time."  

I set to work.  Dozens of plants have taken up residence in my yard over the years, including my yellow roses.  They wouldn't really survive in my yard if it weren't for me watering and feeding, true enough.  But, I have been repaid a thousandfold every time I dig my hands in the soil.  

I deadheaded the spent blossoms, weeded, watered, and generally spent time re-examining each of the 40 or so living things in containers in my yard.  The genes of all the plants were telling them to grow, make use of the long summer sunlight hours, thrive, resist extinction.  

Every different flower was flying like a little flag of resilience, bright and simple.  They are out there  renewing themselves, capable of myriad ways to live on in the face of daunting circumstances.  They're adaptable, tenacious and beautiful.  I don't need to be original; nature's original.  I just need to pay attention to what's real, to the natural world, and learn it.

The sun was captured in the colors of the flowers, divided among them, describing light and color with form and dimension that sunlight doesn't have in and of itself.  I had never thought of flowers exactly as heroes before.  They're usually passed off as pretty diversions that give visual pleasure, decorate vistas, surprise one with color, but the exquisite complexity of their structure, the very nature of flowering and the cycle of life is nothing short of profound.  Nice to know I didn't really need sunlight beating down on me today, that a few dozen plants with petals and stems and leaves could teach me about appreciation and humility.