The Balancing Point.

23 Mar

Equinox.  A time of brief balance.  Equal lengths.  Day.  Night.  And just like that, imperceptible almost, we’ve already moved through it.  Towards longer days.  Towards warmth.  Growth.  New beginnings.

This cloth–honoring moon –reminder of waxing and waning.  Reminder of equinox.  Reminder that this is how we go.  Shifting gentling from side, to center, to side.  Back and forth. Gently passing over center with each swing.  The natural rhythm.  equinox

On the right, beast emerging–a benevolent creature–readying itself for becoming more. Moving into spring.

These next few night–from tonight through Wednesday–will be a challenge. Cold nights. Several near 22. Thursday night’s temperature snuck up on me. 28 degrees. I waited as long as I could but finally went out with flashlight. And yes. The plants were frozen. A white rim of ice etched each leaf. The kale, the lettuce. Broccoli/spinach/cabbage. The tender kale was especially wounded.

So now I’m rounding up containers to cover as much as I can during these next colder nights. I’ve begged and borrowed sheets. Little plants will be covered then tucked in and hopefully will survive. But next year I will follow Mo’s suggestion and set out after the equinox.

And I can’t help but wonder why? Why didn’t I wait? And deep down I wonder if there’s a need for creating tension? Unrest? I could be hanging softly over the balance point right now–waiting for the weather to shift–but instead have swung out–my arc a curving trajectory pulled towards “worrying”– now about plants. At other times, other things. And I’m seeing this pattern through different lens this morning. So ready to be done with it.

9 Responses to “The Balancing Point.”

  1. Mo Crow March 23, 2014 at 10:21 am #

    do you pile straw around the little seedlings on the cold nights?

    • Patricia March 23, 2014 at 7:32 pm #

      they’re covered up now–straw and sheets. sounds kinda biblical doesn’t it? cold damp night ahead. four more nights and then warm weather. i don’t know what to say about all of this. but glad you’re here.

  2. karmadondruplhamo March 23, 2014 at 6:19 pm #

    you took a risk. every year the old grandmother Apricot tree takes a risk. more times than not, it doesn’t go well for fruit. but every year, she does what she does.

    and maybe the going out with the flashlight, the scrounging sheets, maybe that’s ok too.
    maybe that’s just what needs doing when a risk is taken.

    i read your words and maybe your arc is just that. and maybe the challenge of coming
    out on the good side of the challenge is just that. maybe it might be called doing what
    needs to be done and not worry. i think it FEELS like worry, and maybe it really is. and
    maybe it’s a “pattern”…only you know. but maybe it’s just what gets done when you
    allow things some ifyness. maybe…

    either way, i love that you took the risk.

    • Patricia March 23, 2014 at 7:45 pm #

      i love your translation of this post. it has me looking closer. is it worry? now that i think on it more, i think it’s something else. i think about the tenderness of the seedlings–and then how their cells freeze up–and what they look like the next day. aaarrrggghhh.

      but the good thing is the huge reminder to self. that food is not a given. nor is water. or fresh air for that matter. so a reminder. a reminder to welcome gratitude to the table.

      • karmadondruplhamo March 23, 2014 at 10:26 pm #

        i am trying to understand all this too. how it sometimes goes Easy
        and we are happy and comforted. but how it as often doesn’t go Easy. to accept that. to just Go. anyway. Just Go Anyway.
        and maybe that’s it. to remember that NOTHING is a given. Nothing. and when it IS given, it is a true blessing of Ease and softness and well, Ease.

        i am watching Breezy Meadows…Cynthia’s familys Permaculture
        GRAND WORK…how hard it is. HARD. but it’s some times what we
        choose. and so we give our whole selves to it. we Give. we Give.
        love to you….and really, to me, to All of Us as we learn

  3. Marti March 25, 2014 at 6:50 pm #

    Or maybe the need to nurture, the need to move beyond the time of cold and stillness into the possibilities of spring and growth is strong in you . You planted perhaps driven by the need to set roots, to move a little beyond the season.to that reconciliation of new beginnings…it was and is an important step.

    • Marti March 26, 2014 at 8:02 am #

      And to add to this: our grandchildren were with us as well as their parents this week and although plans for seed planting were made, there simply was not enough time. They left yesterday morning and I was busy with the house and laundry. Before I knew it, my husband had planted many many seeds in our little seed trays and planted yellow onions in the ground- maybe a little too soon since frost could still come but the urge he said was simply too strong…it is a yearly ritual this hope and planting of seeds, this longing to bring forth from the ground, food to nourish ourselves and the process, the ritual of hands in dirt, sheltering, covering from the elements, accepting those precious bits of sun, as much a part of the seasonal rhytms of our life as is the harvest…

      • Patricia March 26, 2014 at 10:19 am #

        I like your interpretation. Very much. I said to my friend, “Another reason to cultivate patience.” And she said, “Yes and its opposite is ‘desire.’ The driving force of samsara.” But I’m seeing I don’t have to explain or understand things in terms of this or that. Either/or. Rather, all of this is at play. And as I write that word–“play”–I’m thinking perhaps this is what needs to be unearthed. Levity. Lightness of being.

        It was cold, very cold, last night. 20 degrees. Plants under snow. But my angst has been replaced with something else. Acceptance I suppose. And I realize how wonderful it would be to live in a constant state of acceptance of what is–it sure would remove some drama. So. Acceptance. It’s been up big time–in my face so to speak–big time. And clearly I’m seeing that it IS time.

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