06 August 2011

Count Your Tomatoes

Yes, Dear Reader...

More from the lazy garden. Neglected the weeds all week, being quite humid and having a lot of work to do. The first week of every month some church folk go down and lift a few signs for marital justice. Our new "honk if you support gay marriage" got some honks, too. More than one from a garbage truck, which must mean something but I am not sure what.

Attacked weeds this morning before the rains came, and harvested some tomatoes and lettuce and a respectable green pepper. Not bad for doing almost nothing. Truly, nature does most of the work. The trick is working out exactly how much I need to add.

This helps stave off the easy despair of a wretched political week. It would be easy for most of us to just give up. And perhaps that is what some would wish. The less likely ordinary people are to exercise their role and power, the more likely the few with intense agendas will exercise theirs.

Therefore I conclude I must be involved. But compassed about as I am by so great a cloud political gnats, each one buzzing their story or analysis or agenda or platform, it is hard both to stand it or to get one's bearings.

Amid all the posturing and posing and blaming I have come to believe that anger and fear are powerful forces but not lasting ones. We don't like feeling that way and so we cannot sustain them long term. Hope lasts, but is less powerful.

The first is like weeding, quick and violent and brutal. In one hour I can undo a week's growth. But even I have to sleep. Hope is like nature, slow, even weak, but relentless. I do not see the grass growing in the hour I am out there, but it is growing and never stops.

Malvina Reynolds wrote a song called "God Bless The Grass," which helps me at times like these. Here they are and may they strengthen your soul for the work we have to do:

God bless the grass that grows through the crack.
They roll the concrete over it to try and keep it back.
The concrete gets tired of what it has to do,
It breaks and it buckles and the grass grows through,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the truth that fights toward the sun,
They roll the lies over it and think that it is done.
It moves through the ground and reaches for the air,
And after a while it is growing everywhere,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that grows through cement.
It's green and it's tender and it's easily bent.
But after a while it lifts up its head,
For the grass is living and the stone is dead,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that's gentle and low,
Its roots they are deep and its will is to grow.
And God bless the truth, the friend of the poor,
And the wild grass growing at the poor man's door,
And God bless the grass.

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