I have a dream that all living beings will one day live on a planet where they will not be judged by their species but by the content of their innate being.
Those of you who have read my past blogs know that my garden experiences always lead me to communicate with nature, particularly wasps. I have been stung and shouted at by the fiercest of drones. They have made me listen. From our communications, I have gained not only understanding but respect.
It had been a while since I ventured into the garden to do some needed maintenance. I always make it a habit to ask for permission when I step into a floral or foliage area.
Just as I entered the garden, a bug ran into my head and said, “My apologies, you turned unexpectedly.”
I replied, “No need to apologize. No harm done.”
Now, you may be wondering how a bug speaks English. I don’t have all the answers, but I suspect that some loving spirit is helping us to communicate with each other. However, I don’t think communications have to come with words. I think telepathy gets easier the more you trust.
In one of my past blogs, I spoke about how I learned what happens when you explore dark crevices in your garden. You sometimes get stung.
Yesterday, I started pulling some weeds out of my garden, and a wasp started dive-bombing me. As he buzzed past my ear, I said, “Why can’t you just see that I’m not going to disturb your home? I just want to pull weeds.”
I started to look around for the wasps’ home. It was last fall that I demolished a big hive that grew under a wooden stump in my garden. As I pondered, I could hear the wasp start to rally up the troops. I spoke to the leader, “We have to establish some boundaries here. I’m just trying to maintain my home.”
After a light breakfast, I headed outside to sit in on the porch chair embracing my morning coffee. It was a beautiful morning with blue skies and sun. A cool breeze blew past me as I looked out into the garden and watched the hawk above me soar.
My husband works in the garden more than I, but I’m the detail gal. I usually go around picking big weeds, tackling thistles, and directing him on what needs attention. It’s sometimes an overwhelming task, and that is why I would love to watch the hawk more than tackling the weeds. This morning was one of those mornings where I realized that I neglected my duties.
Recently, we had a flood in our backyard, which violated our basement and our lives. The basement, 3 months later, is still under repair and our house is still disheveled. This is the ebb in life most of us know.
I took a walk in the garden and noticed all the thistle, weeds, and rotting wood. I notice how our porch and the gutters needed replacement, and how even the evergreens were losing their green. Generally, the flood disaster took our attention away from other things.
I could retreat and go inside and wait for the winter cover, but instead, I decided to place myself in the middle of nature’s encroachment. I started out in the garden where our newly planted trees existed, stuck in the dry soil and how they desperately needed water. I pulled, what seemed to be endless weeds out, while I pondered about my next business venture. Nature does this to me. It brings me back down to earth for the purpose of realizing my gifts. It makes me notice things. Nature also helped me write this blog.