“Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.”
“I climb up on the house / weep to water the trees”
—Guided By Voices
Another tearful week in our crumbling empire. At our house, we’re taking pleasure in our garden beds. Elsewhere, bad seeds are bringing forth rotten fruit, but here, good fruit is coming in. We’ve eaten a few strawberries plucked right off the plant. The tomatoes are getting bigger.
The more I learn about gardening, the richer the metaphor for creative work. This week I’m learning more about composting. On a recent bike ride, Hank gave me a mini chemistry lesson in exothermic and endothermic reactions, anaerobic vs. aerobic decomposition, chemical bonds, carbohydrates, etc. I even got to stick my hand in to feel the heat of the heap.
In Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes how she has “fullblown chlorophyll envy,” and wishes she could “photosynthesize” so that she could “be doing the work of the world while standing silent in the sun.” It’s hard not to envy the plants, who seem to know how to grow without anybody’s help. They know what to do without asking.