In the Weeds
What is this monster slouching towards Bethlehem from the east? It has stopped the world. It has forced a changed view on all. Collective choice clears the air and waters. Shelter in place and cocoon. Nature responds in a boom. We are ready to bloom. How much of us must die, for us all to change? What notions held now will slough away? When this monster has gone will we see the mountains? Every 1,000 years we can molt and emerge again. What form will we take? Will we fly from here to the mountains?
Chisholm Creek forms the eastern property line on our acreage. I think it is the most important feature of our property. It’s wildlife, huge trees and fertile bottom soil give the property unique value. The creek flows constantly as is mostly clear. It rages and sometimes floods when heavy rain falls. It is a torrent then, and scours the creek banks and causes major erosion and bank collapse. Ducks and turkey love the creek. Deer and racoons abound too. We have seen bobcat, coyote and fox next to the creek. It is amazingly close to town too. The creek actually begins in town and bisects the north side of Oklahoma City. I think the nearly 100 ponds and embankments on the tributaries make the stream run clear and run while it is dry. Homes are like people, they are drawn to water. Most of these embankments and ponds are encircled by homes, leaving little or no space for the wild creek. Can a creek like Chisholm Creek be protected as a waterway? Can we leave this last vestige of nature in better condition year after year? Or will it be paved over? It is only 15 miles long before it joins Cottonwood Creek in Logan county. Even while it seems like a possible task, how can it be done before it’s covered up? I wonder what kinds of community action could be taken to preserve and improve the wild Chisholm Creek for this and future generations?
One of my earliest clear memories is my grandfather Ray’s back yard. And since it was a corner lot you might call it the side yard because it was open to the street and sheltered by a huge cottonwood tree that served as shade for the many times we visited Ray and Mary Ladd, my maternal grandparents. He would sit outside in metal chairs freshly painted and patched from rust with his friends under the cottonwood and conduct business. Even though it seems as one moment now, the scene must have been different each visit but my memory seems fixed, as solid as the old cottonwood, thicker than it really can be so close to the house. His telephone had a marvelously long cord which he pulled through the back bedroom window out to his table. He had a full head of white/grey hair and always had cold pop in his outbuilding to the back of the lot which served as extra sleeping and storage space. We could get it ourselves from the fridge. We would sip the sweet pop and sit and listen. Like the annual pollination that happens with native cottonwoods, this memory is getting more smokey as I am older. The cottonwood barren of leaves and shade. Memories roll up together like puffs of cottonwood seeds. Gathering and becoming indistinguishable from each other, rolling gently.
The Red Cedars around here are considered fire hazards. They explode with giant flames as their resinous leaves and branches catch fire.
I am lucky to often see these magnificent birds on my pond’s edge stalking fish. They have 6 feet wingspan and long massive beaks on the end of very long necks. They will wade along the shoreline and stab into the water stunning the fish. They then catch the stunned fish and throw it on the bank. After subduing their prey, they perform a juggling act. They pitch the fish up in the air and catch it head first. This often takes a couple adjustments. As the head of the fish approaches the gullet, the heron stretches their long neck skyward and commences to swallow the fish whole. Here is a good picture from Wikipedia of this beautiful bird. The nests look to be made of large 2-4 foot branches placed at the very top of very large trees. They will raise a clutch of 3-6 eggs. Adrian dislikes these birds because they feed on the fish in our stocked pond. But I rather enjoy watching these fishermen at work. They are just doing their business. The stocked bass are just now getting too big to swallow. I saw this happen a few days ago. A murder of crows attracted my attention. They were trying the eat a bass on the bank while a heron, unable to swallow the fish and unable to walk away, halfheartedly tried to fend off the crows. As the heron would saunter away from the bass, the crows would hop near the bass and peck at it. The jealous heron, seeing this, would come back and try to pick up the fish. Unable to gulp down the fish, the heron would walk away giving leave to the crows. I lost interest in the scene before its conclusion. It seemed obvious that the crows, endowed with the virtue of patience, would win this meal. These birds are very shy. They fly at the first sign of humans. I am concerned that they are very close to the garden (100 yards or more) and that we will spook the birds from their rookery. We will keep the tractor clear of the garden as best we can over the next few weeks. Hopefully our work will not disrupt their business. I am more than happy to share fish for the enterprise. Especially now that sunfish have become their most likely edible prey. From one fisherman to another: Good luck! Update – 6/18/2014 – The Herons returned this year and I got a picture of some chicks in the nests.
Oh boy have I been wrong about the weather. Blog after blog, I’ve forecast an early spring. We planted tomatoes, now dead in the garden, in late March. The weather has made a fool of me. Even cold tolerant cabbage froze when the temp reached 20 F and was replanted. Oh and the drought I’ve planned for is another surprise. Most of late winter the garden needed water to even work the soil. There had been no heavy rain since leveling and tilling the garden in August. But now we have had several very nice days of rain. Last week we had 5 inches slow soaking rain. Every 10 day forecast seems to show a couple days of rain. The garden is often too wet to work. My over-engineered irrigation system makes me feel a bit foolish too. We are keeping all of the seedlings of tomato and tomatillo outside during the day and return them to the hot house over night. Both are getting too big for the pots they are planted. Ugh – the grafted tomatoes look completely root-bound and are falling over. They needed to be planted 2 weeks ago, but must wait until this late frost passes. I don’t know why confessing foolishness is important. A good confession cleans the soul. But even a public confession will probably not correct my behavior. It is just too much fun to try to predict how the world will unfold. Maybe I should post a warning to blog readers or waive liability of any and all utterances made or implied on this site.
We all get into thought loops. Over and over the same thoughts. Many times this is our mind examining a problem or evidence and forcing current facts into some previously solved problem or situation. I imagine people with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with horribly repetitive mind looping, a circle with no end. Really tight, inescapable loops. Yikes. In our busy lives we are called on for new thinking to create new things to solve today’s problems. I find that creativity comes best when my mind is quiet. Real change in thinking is possible when looping thought stops. For me, creativity comes from this silence (comes out from the silence), from the place where those looping thoughts were. As a professional, I stuck to certain loops, and solved old problems without creating anything new. Many professions will have a mantra for repetitive thought. In marketing the mantra was “test, measure, refine, test, measure, refine, … That mantra served me very well on old problems. Pulling weeds helped me solve new problems. Getting my mind to shut off is pretty easy. I weed in the garden. Pull up weeds and set them in a pile. It is mechanical, a physical loop: hand to weed, grasp root, pull, shake, pile (repeated). I lose hearing first and some looping thoughts stop. Tunnel vision begins and my field of view narrows: I see only the top of one weed. My sense of awareness shrinks to the bed being cleared. Taste and smell are dull and more loopy thoughts stop. It is in this very unfocused state that often would bring the: “Oh”. The ah-ha moment of clarity. So if you need to solve a new problem or new situation, take up gardening and weed your garden often.
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