Presence

Worms Give Me Hope

November 24, 2019

This is how I prayed today:

On my knees. In the dirt. Under a blue sky.

It was a warm November day. Too warm. No rain in the forecast. Again. Maybe we will have some closer to Thanksgiving?  There always seems to be rain in the long range forecast, usually about two weeks out. The weather forecasters are tricky like that. Maybe they don’t want Californians to worry too much, to lose hope, to start that slow descent into mass depression that we all suffered a few years back, when we endured year after year of drought.

Today, though?  The sunshine was bright and I enjoyed it in spite of myself.

This was the second year I purchased native California wildflower seeds with birthday money from my sweet in-laws. Last fall, I planted some in our front yard and then scattered the rest in a flower patch that I had just started out back. I confess that I was surprised this last spring when the seeds actually sprouted.  I always hope, you understand, but sometimes I doubt that the tiny seeds will turn into flowers, especially in my yard, where the soil has been neglected and weeds have thrived, where I am more likely to dig into the dirt and find nails and pieces of broken glass than worms.

This last year, though, my seed scattering was a success. I had a small wildflower patch pop up in my front yard, and California poppies and a few lupine in the back. The weeds were still there, but there were flowers, too.

Today, I went outside and scattered seed again: more California poppies, more  lupine, baby blue eyes, globe gilia, California bluebells. I found sticks and pushed them into the earth, marking where the seeds fell. Next spring when green shoots emerge, if they emerge, if there is rain, I will remember that these are wildflowers, not weeds. At least some of them. Odds are good that there will be weeds, too. But after working this soil for a few years now, I think I can tell them apart. Mostly. At least the worst offenders: the ferny burr weeds, the yellow sticker clovers, the foxtail grasses that lodge in my dog’s feet and ears.

But here is the surprise that I want to tell you about. Continue Reading…

Daily Grace

Waking Up to Power (After Four Days of Darkness)

November 3, 2019

Today, I woke up to electricity. I was so grateful.

I confess that most mornings, if you asked me what I was thankful for, electricity wouldn’t be on my list. Not because it’s unimportant. Mostly because I just never think about it.  I assume that the lights will go on in the morning when I wake up. Also, the water will flow from the tap when I turn it on, and will drain away where it is supposed to go (Of all people, though, I should realize this is a gift. It wasn’t that long ago that roots in our septic tank made it so that none of our water drained. See what I wrote earlier this year about my hierarchy of plumbing needs, apologies to Maslow. Everyday, I wake up assuming that gas stations will be open and have gas when I want it.  Grocery store will stock the milk and eggs I prefer.  The fact that they might not have milk and eggs would never even occur to me. If you asked me most mornings, I could give you a long list of things I am grateful for.  But these simple conveniences? I wouldn’t mention them. I just take them for granted.

This morning was the first morning that we had power again after four days of darkness (Well. Two days ago now. But the feeling of gratitude remains).  When I first woke up, turned on the light in the kitchen, and heated up water for tea on the stove, and the stove turned on? I was grateful. When hot water came out of the tap? Grateful. When I was able to do laundry in my own house? Grateful. When I opened the refrigerator and the light came on, and I didn’t have to panic about letting all the cool air out? Grateful. When I could charge my computer, my cell phone, my tooth brush? You know.  Just grateful.

So many gifts, no? It’s easy to forget that none of these are guaranteed. There’s no law that promises that these will always be available.  I forget so easily. Today, though? Today, I remembered. It was a good day.