They came to our house in coffee cans, twin volunteers from my mother's tree, and only two feet of spindly sweetness, each. We nursed them through an annual attack of Nightcloak butterflies for about ten seasons, as well as a poison, seeping down through the soil from the garden behind us. This was another neighbor who hated the huge Mulberry tree in our other neighbor's yard. They didn't seem to care at all that other gardens were even further downstream, as they poured gallons of herbicide on the roots of the Mulberry. You could see the path of destruction through our yard leading right down to, and engulfing, the Elms. We flooded our yard to flush it out of our soil and into the street, feeling sorry for whatever it would eventually sicken as it made it's way via the storm drains to the sea.
I also found out that the pain I've been having for a year was caused by several cracked ribs that didn't heal properly after a bad fall. And today I went to have a CT scan to see what I did to the part of the brain pan that hit the cement last June. They are comparing the CT's. I am comparing the new me with the old me. So far it seems to be only dexterity in my hands, a thickening tongue, and hearing loss but that could be from not wanting to listen to this world anymore. That might explain the far away stares, too. People do get disconnected as they see or hear more than they ever could be expected to take in and survive.
Is that not so?
DD got a spinning wheel, a little Louet she says. The woman who owns the shop where she bought it put it together for her free of charge. That was very sweet of them. Sometimes people do the nicest things. I will go see this little wheel someday and decide if it is the one for me as well. Escaping into fiber arts and the other gentle arts can heal many disappointments. It's a blessing that women have these things to turn to. The little bandage is now fully half as long as it needs to be to be bundled up and sent away. Soon it will have sisters and brothers to accompany it. I've found that I am knitting a good thought and a little prayer into each stitch as it goes on the needles.
Thank you for writing so beautifully about your trees and what they meant to you. I don't know what it's like to have shared space with trees, or a home, for that long, but I've had those same attachments to little bits of growing things, too. Thank you for reminding me of the columbines I grew from seed, my little flower garden, the moonflowers...
ReplyDeleteP.S. (I wasn't finished!) You are so right about the blessing and healing that making things can be. I'll knit a few stitches for you myself.
ReplyDelete*soft smile* you're feeling alright, girl?...this is so very sentimental :)
ReplyDeletedisconnect from the world and try to connect with onself through nature and fiber arts? healing times...?
you put in words what i've been trying to do for the past year.
You're welcome Jane. Sometimes we do forget the magic that is in a seed. Long after Mother was gone, I grew some of her cactus seeds into little barrel like fellows that are still chugging along, tiny but determined. I'll tell you, cactus grow soooo slowly. And thank you, too, for knitting a few stitches for me. I'm getting a little anxiety froth going here but it's probably just a precautionary CT on my doc's part. She's a very good doctor. She listens to her patients.
ReplyDeletePugknits, I am feeling very sentimental. I actually went out a few times and kissed their leaves, hugged them, and said a couple of long, teary, goodbyes.
Frankly I feel we are all needing healing from what is going on. I sure can understand the search for spiritual healing in any age, but especially nowadays when you would think we'd have learned some new ways of doing things.
Thanks again for you comforting words Jane and Pugknits. They are a blessing.
I am truly sory about those lovely trees; but a bit more worried about you and your ribs and your CT!
ReplyDeleteHope everything turns out allright!
Thanks, Karen. It was one of those things we put off because we were so attached to them. We really didn't want to have to kill them. Urban trees have a short life.
ReplyDeleteAh the head. By the end of the week if there is any head problem, I'm sure they will tell me what it is. I will be glad to have this behind me. Those sore ribs I'm stuck with. I should have eaten more ribsticking foods to make more padding on them, yes? hehe A fat head isn't enough to protect from cement, however. So anyone out there who has one, as do I, be warned!