Stopping To Look
As I was watering my plants the other day, I stopped to check on my parsley plants. I had cut them down a few times this season, to promote more growth and keep it in check. As I knelt down to trim a few pieces back, I focused my eyes to see a fat juicy lime green caterpillar clutching the stalks. The kind of caterpillar Timon and Pumba eat in the Lion King. A tremor of primal fear shivered through me, but then I registered it was a harmless caterpillar. I noticed its bright bulbous back, and then proceeded to count a second, a third caterpillar. How nice! I thought. A little ecosystem here. But then I realized that they were probably eating my parsley, gorging themselves in my fresh herb garden, and it was kind of gross.
I guess that is what makes August, August. It is hot, it is humid, almost like a steambath. The garden is taking its last gasp as it starts to brown and sag. My dahlias were a disappointment, as my cafe au laits didn’t even bloom (yet?) and my lifestyle anenomes were/are barely budding. August is the Sunday of summer. The panic sets in as the back to school countdown starts. And this year everything about back to school feels like a terrible, bad dream. There are truly moments of calm and moments of sheer anxiety. I don’t know how they are allowing this to happen, yet Trump is calling to push elections because it is unsafe to vote. It is completely asinine and I feel like I have lost hope. Politics and the stressors of the unknown have crept into my thoughts every day, and I have purposefully unplugged to escape it. But sometimes it isn’t enough.
Through the anxiety it has helped to stop and look. Even though it is unpleasant to be outside during this August heat, and my ankles get riddled with mosquito bites, and there is always a nagging sensation to MOVE yet I can’t, or don’t want to.
Stopping and looking through this uneasiness, tension and fear have brought me some small joys. Like this hummingbird who was flitting about my butterfly bush the other evening, who kept coming back for more. Like the two fawns who were in my driveway with their mother last night while I was taking Rosie out. Like looking up in the twilight sky and seeing a dark storm cloud approaching - summer rain storms are one of my favorite things.
This year there are some maddening elements to the idea of “taking it slow.” From stay at home orders to social distancing to travel restrictions, the pressure to take it slow can be oppressive. Why do I fight it now, but yearn for it when I am busy? Why can’t I enjoy it while I have the time? Why does time seem to zoom past us irregardless? I guess it is just an irony of life. I know that I will look back on this time and wish desperately for another break in time.
ciao, xo