How Easy for Nature; How Difficult for Humans . . .

I’m struck by the ease with which Nature moves, mysterious and majestic, through the seasons; now, already in February, she begins to burst underground seeds into roots balancing silently surging stalks upwards, seeking the sun through very thick leaf mulch . . . 

Or even, not so thick . . .

I think the above are all daffodils. Then there are the welcome little snow drops, which flowered at least a week ago.

The very first green we saw was around the trunk of this tree, about a month ago. What is it?

Okay, now switch to us humans. We are in the beginnings of planting for the the upcoming season. To get ready, we spent five or six work parties of two hours each and 5-6 people each time, preparing the greenhouse — washing walls, shelves, containers, organizing and re-organizing all sorts of stuff; plus cleaning, sharpening, oiling tools. And more! On and on! Then, mixing materials for the soil we use in starting seeds, getting that soil moist enough (but not too sodden!) to agree to be compacted into tiny soil blocks . . .

Here’s Adam, learning the ropes on how to get the pesky soil blocks to work. 

Meanwhile, Joseph is getting itsy bitsy seeds (not sure what kind) . . .

to agree to be placed into tiny soil blocks by wetting the end of a pointed stick to lure one seed at a time to stick to the stick . . .

I went to check on our progress as of this morning. The seedlings were planted Tuesday. This is five days later. Rather than being in the greenhouse, they are in the living room of the house Marita and Camden live in, for now. (That way we don’t have to start a fire in the greenhouse during cold nights.)

Here’s what’s sprouting today. Kale.

 

Some of the seedlings are beginning to poke their roots through the bottoms of their blocks, so Marita and I will put their tiny blocks inside larger blocks this evening.

Meanwhile, Nature just does what she does effortlessly. 

There’s likely a way to survive on perennial plants alone. We humans just haven’t figured it out yet. Or: we don’t remember. We don’t re-member. We haven’t put ourselves back together with Nature, yet.

Meanwhile, we toil and labor, at something we love.

I think it no accident that the words “soil” and “soul” are similar.

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