Merry AND bright? Geez, that seems like a lot to expect this year. Two easy happy things? At the same time?
This year my festive mood is less Christmasy and more Solsticey.
Joyful and sad. Brave and afraid. Motivated and weary: The cyclical celestial tilting and turning we experience over these days brings stark contrasts to my mind.
And why? Because while things always change, things also really don't.
When your surrounding conditions change quickly and radically, that which remains as it was before is like an anchor in the storm of switch-ups.
Speaking of which, we did a little gardening yesterday.
During this first week in our new home, putting down literal roots had occurred to me once or twice. The Texas gulf coast is mostly warm and humid, even in December, and I have been studying how and where the day's sunlight falls in our backyard.
Maybe some herbs in containers? Useful and low maintenance.
Something we use a lot? Cilantro.
I put "cilantro" on my shopping list, thinking I'd probably have to find some seeds. When everything is new and unfamiliar, planning for plants brings me comfort and joy.
Transplant something already growing, or sow some seeds?
Why not do both?
Walking into the grocery store the other day, I stopped by the large racks of little potted herbs. It looked like there were hundreds of healthy cilantro starts, until closer inspection revealed the most prevalent plant to be Italian Parsley.
I like parsley a lot, but it will not serve as a substitute for cilantro. I kept checking the little labels spiked into each plant´s soil.
Finally, after patient searching, one small sickly cilantro was found. Knowing cilantro to be fairly hardy, I suspected it might make a rebound with the right treatment. It could start over in a large pot I had found and claimed in the backyard.
I brought the plant to our and its new home, feeling pretty merry and bright about the prospect of playing in the dirt soon.
Mae stepped outside to help me, asking "So, the usual protocol? You know, hole, take, put?"
"Pretty much," I replied, and asked to take photos.
As we take our lives and put them here, hoping to grow roots that might connect us to a new place, as we weather changes to just about every aspect of our lives; I appreciate more than ever what doesn't change at all.
Mae's skills are no accident. Yes, growth and change are inevitable, but the core lessons learned and experiences gained are our foundation: a "usual protocol" to follow when we find ourselves in yet another new backyard.
This is who we always were, so of course, this is who we still are. And this is who we will stay.
