Regaining balance and pace

It's less than a week until Summer Solstice and, at the moment, it appears unlikely we'll get enough rain by then to make it safe to ignite the backyard brush pile we turn into a mini-bonfire to celebrate. As a fall back, we'll enjoy a smaller fire in the burn pit. Our region of Minnesota (East Central) is beginning to feel like it's experiencing a drought. Fortunately, not as bad as much of the western United States, but enough that the "wet spot" behind the house isn't wet any more. Just ask the whitetail deer pictured below.

whitetail deer in "wet spot"

Photo by J. Harrington

The record-setting heat wave that recently ended left us feeling enervated and full of ennui. Progress in yard work and planting has been slow to non-existent. The same heat-dry wave that left us lazy also is convincing us that it's too late and parched to start a three sisters garden this summer. All of these weather vagaries are giving us an opportunity to practice "not being in control." In our younger days we called it learning to "go with  the flow." I was never very good at that, but I used to be better than I am these days. Time to refresh and improve old skills and relearn the nuance and balance between being in control and giving up.

small pond in summertime

Photo by J. Harrington

The pond north of the property has taken on it's summer appearance. Its flow is barely noticeable. There's a coating of pollen, dust and tree debris on its surface. An occasional duck takes refuge on its quiet waters. I'm overdue for spraying myself with tick repellant and going and sitting, and meditating, until I can  feel the quiet waters flowing calmly through me. Four years of a would-be autocrat in the White House, plus more  than a year's worth of pandemic, followed by the other party in power that then fails to use the their power, has left me more curmudgeonly than usual. It's past time I remember one of David Brower's wonderful insights: "It seems that every time mankind is given a lot of energy, we go out and wreck something with it."

The Pond

by Mary Oliver

August of another summer, and once again
I am drinking the sun
and the lilies again are spread across the water.
I know now what they want is to touch each other.
I have not been here for many years
during which time I kept living my life.
Like the heron, who can only croak, who wishes he
could sing,
I wish I could sing.
A little thanks from every throat would be appropriate.
This is how it has been, and this is how it is:
All my life I have been able to feel happiness,
except whatever was not happiness,
which I also remember.
Each of us wears a shadow.
But just now it is summer again
and I am watching the lilies bow to each other,
then slide on the wind and the tug of desire,
close, close to one another,
Soon now, I’ll turn and start for home.
And who knows, maybe I’ll be singing.

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