Dirty
Hands
“The
bricks of the houses were pulled from tired walls by many sets of hands and were
stacked, like the building blocks of children, in wheelbarrows, to be wheeled
away and used again. Then the foundations of the lonely houses crumbled and
were swept away and soil flew in on the breeze carrying dandelion seeds with
it, and those many hands with soil in the curves of their fingerprints placed
tiny seeds in tiny pressed hollows that grew to be oak and sycamore and birch
and ash.”
Surnai
Molloy (Revolution: Imagine a World Renewed, Parabola, Spring 2020, p.101)
Yesterday, I dropped off homemade masks at the home of my son and daughter-in-law and chatted with them through the glass door for a few minutes. When I started to leave, my daughter-in-law pointed to two partial flats of plants and said, “Those are for you.” Hot pink verbena and multi-colored nasturtiums—such a gift! I went home and dug in the still-wet soil of my sidewalk flower bed to plant them. It felt heavenly to have dirt beneath my fingernails.
A couple of months ago, I made a tiny donation to the Arbor Day Foundation and last week received in the mail ten little trees. I soaked their roots overnight and then planted them in pots. Now every one of them has leaves. There’s redbud, crepe myrtle, hawthorn, flowering crabapple, and white dogwood. I am so excited about planting ten little trees to replace all the oaks I’ve lost.
During this self-isolation we are observing because of the coronavirus, planting almost anything is both healing and grounding. It takes our minds off the disaster unfolding in our hospitals for just a little while. At a time when, unless we are health care professionals or first responders, we feel as though we can’t do much to help, this is one good way—help the earth, and help the bees and butterflies.
I spoke with my friend Garvice yesterday. He’s a Physical Therapist who’s not seeing patients now to preserve social distancing guidelines. He spoke about all the home-tasks he’s accomplished—things he’d put off for lack of time. My son, Jake, paints canvas after canvas of wonderful, mystical creatures. There are many things we can do with our isolation that will help to make this time feel less restrictive. And not only less restrictive, but almost a blessing. We don’t have to rush around, work-work-working all the time for life to be beautiful and productive.
It’s good to remember
that life goes on despite the coronavirus. There is so much beauty in
springtime when everything is leafing out and blooming. Rain falls and birds sing
orchestral concerts while building their nests. In the middle of this terrifying
pandemic, new life surrounds us. Rejoice and give thanks.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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