SLOW SPRING

Today is the Full Flower Moon of May! I woke up thinking, gee…it's almost May 15th and I haven't yet spotted my first bluebird. The great spaces between birds is a little concerning to me. I first noticed it last year…a decrease in the populations of common songbirds that summer here in the western Maine mountains. I have a tendency to be a worry wart and find I have to practice vigilance against the chronic habit of seeking out things to worry about. There is no shortage of possibilities. But I am concerned about the birds. There used to be so many swallows darting playfully over the farmers fields here by the river. And last year we had a family of bluebirds set up house in our edge of the woods birdhouse. My calendar says they moved in around May 5th. When I walk in the woods I hear the song of the Hermit thrush and occasional oven birds…but their numbers seem low. I hope I'm wrong. More and more, I am startled by how little humans are doing to take care of and nurture the planet that is their home. While all the rich and powerful men are blathering around tables arguing about whether or not there is a change in the climate…oil is still spilling and fracking is still poisoning the water that large corporations want to privatize for their own profit. We've been extracting oil, gas, coal, gems and precious minerals from the Earth for centuries and we still don't have…or use our technology to clean up after ourselves. The scared planet that sustains us all is lost in the arguing about whose religion is THE religion…or whose God is THE God. While all the fighting continues and escalates into spurts and waves of power displays and violence.

Mother's Day has come and gone. We all have a chance to ruminate about mothers and mothering…our own mother's strengths and weaknesses…our feelings of success or failure at being a mother or the echoes of our choices to not be a mother. We all have our private path with the whole concept of MOTHER…our own stories…our own truths. Perhaps we even have our own rituals to celebrate motherhood…our own scripts that we feel dutiful to relive. Yet, truly…there is only one mother. Our singular individual selves have a genetic mother who has her genetic mother who has her mother ad infinitum. The mother of our biological selves…our growing adolescent selves…the mother who nurtured us by generosity or neglect…yet she is not our deepest mother. The mother of all life and the mother of mothers waiting to be celebrated is our planet Earth and mankind is missing his one last chance to bow down to her in gratitude for the riches of his life. She is exhausted and depleted. Her resources are dwindling and her abuse is criminal. But who is talking about solutions to the global issues of planetary health? Most of those speaking about the planetary issues are the butt of jokes . Our individual lives here on Earth are short and perhaps we are as a species, selfish and shortsighted but at the rate we are destroying our home…our grandchildren's futures are something to begin worrying about. Or better yet…doing something about.

What natural patterns do you see changing? Is it OK with you? I become troubled by the young people who's attention seems lost in technology. I observe so many folks who have their eyes on their smart phones or tablets…anything but another human. I worry because so many children don't know anything about the birds and flowers and trees that grow around them. They wouldn't know a blackberry from a bearberry…such is their alienation from the nature that surrounds them. If everyone is so focused on the intelligence of a computer device…who is going to notice the world as it teeters on the edge of disaster?

I feel the pull of the moon in my heart. I feel the Earth perched perilously close to a point of no return. I worry about the worms in my garden and the birds at my feeder. I care about the animals and the trees and the flowers. I am disheartened by the human paradox…so smart…so powerful…so rich having "dominion" over all of nature and yet humans are in a race to destroy their very home. What is happening to the polar bears and the moose and the elephants is a warning of what is in store for us. We best begin to listen. But my God…it is really time to act.

In my weighty contemplation of the arriving songbirds…I looked up at the peach tree I planted for our 25th anniversary. This past winter may have killed it with nearly 15 days of below -25 degree temperatures. I won't know for sure for a couple more weeks. I had my first real harvest of peaches this fall and enjoyed peach smoothies into the winter. The tree was doing great but may not survive. Maybe thats what I get for being so optimistic as to buy a tree at Reny's for 12 dollars and plant it in Zone 4. But maybe…just maybe…I'll try again. Because who just landed in that peach tree and lifted my heart with a hope for the future? A bright blue indigo bunting…irridescent sky-blue and a sweet melodious song. I would despair without them.