One single blade of grass has its own set of roots
deep down below
where it intermingles and interlocks
with all the other root systems

I know this because I’ve been pulling at them all weekend
Hands filthy
Heart fluttering
My garden is my safe place
away from intrusive thoughts and concerns about who I am
and where I am going

I’m rooted
Reminded that I’m right where I am supposed to be
There’s no more important place I need to be
but here taking care of this tiny plot of earth, a little spec

The untrained soul might assume it would be meaningless to spend an entire weekend tending to it
But I feel healthier and more whole when I am here

I cut down the tall grasses that kept bunnies safe over the winter
I think about planting butterfly weed because the monarchs are struggling
I wonder if my cat, Mia, will enjoy watching the birds and squirrels
I realize we’re all little blades of grass swaying along
Fragile, at first glance
Yet we’re all so very complex deep down below

We keep on trying
despite ourselves
Like the grass
we don’t know exactly when we will emerge
but we do know the direction we must keep pushing towards

Henry, you should have been there.
Well, you were, but I mean today, specifically.

I thought of you as I passed slowly by the replica of the tiny cabin where you escaped a society that didn’t suit you. Can I admit to you that I’m not sure it suits me either?

I wish I could ask you what it felt like every day in the woods, surrounded by beauty, to wake up and write.

Today I didn’t come to write. You already did enough for the two of us.

Today I came to jump into Walden Pond, your pond.

It’s the middle of the winter, Henry, so maybe you’d think I’m ridiculous, but knowing you, I think you’d vibe with the idea.

There were people walking around, which you probably would have hated. I did too. But, I walked until I found a little slice of peace with no footsteps or echoes of conversations between friends.

I took the opportunity to sprint right into the water.

Henry, it was fucking cold. I’m sure you remember.

But, guess what? It lifted my fog. I felt happy. I bet you went out there too, to remember what it feels like to be joyful. You paved the way, friend, if I am allowed to call you that, because you put this place on the map and in my mind when I woke up this morning.

You’ll never know that just by being you, you helped me get a little bit of me back today. For that, I wanted to say thank you.

What’ssssss up with all of the snakes in my path lately?
If you know anything about me, I’m not one for leaning into signs or symbols from the universe.
But, the snake thing is becoming hard to ignore.
For about two years now, at least seven snakes have crossed right in front of me while I’m either walking or running.
It’s not, “oh, hey, check out that snake WAY over there”, it’s “This snake is literally in my path and I have to take action in order to not step on it”.
One time I was running and only saw the snake at the last second and had to do a hurdle-style leap over a giant snake.
That one took my breath away. I was actually frightened.

Yesterday I went for a long walk and two snakes crossed right in front of me. The second time, I was sure no one would believe me, so I took this photo:

Ssssssso, snakes, I don’t really know what you’re up to around me, but if you are trying to scare me, you can’t really. I am already going through something scarier. But, if you wanna tell me you symbolize some sort of shedding of skin and great transition, I’ll allow it.

Today is a traumatic day for me. I don’t yet have the words to describe it, but we’ll no longer be living under the same roof. Our kids starting today will split time between the two of us. I woke up and put on the overalls I bought after we decide to get divorced. It’s an act of resistance. You wouldn’t notice the air of resistance on the street if you aren’t a close friend of mine, but if you are, you’d understand I’m in my full overall glowing glory today.

Evidence below:

I’m too far away from nature these days and perhaps that is why I’m feeling so unbelievably off. I’ve reached a point where my kids’ voices sound like noise. I don’t hear them. I haven’t felt like myself today, yesterday or the day before. I started crying in my boss’s office yesterday over something that I could normally figure out on my own. 

I used to spend at least an hour a day working on and establishing our permaculture garden. Our front yard used to be all weeds. The sun had scorched all of the grass away, making a perfect home for tall weeds to grow which my husband and I would pull out by hand every day. I’ll reiterate that we were visible from the street during this process and received many comments from neighbors about using weed killer instead. 

After a while we looked around at all the other yards and realized that we didn’t want to fix this problem by seeding more non-native grass that would just die down again and leave us permanently weeding. During this time I read a statistic that half of all water usage in the United States goes to watering the lawn to keep it green and better than your neighbor’s. That is truly insane. We simply are not those people. 

And, without knowing it, we embarked on a year and a half long journey to kill our lawn and establish a permaculture yard with local, native plants that don’t need daily watering because they can survive just fine in the area where we live. They are from here. 

Through trial and error and a failed solarization attempt, we eventually covered the entire front lawn with cardboard leftover from people who had recently moved to the area and were all too happy for us to swing by and take their boxes away. We layered the cardboard over the weeds and topped it with compost to smother what was below. We learned that this process is called sheet mulching. It took us forever, but I was happier when I was outside digging and getting my hands dirty every day. I think a little part inside of me withers when I’m stuck inside. 

Now when I look outside my front window while I’m working I see bees buzzing around the catmint, I notice butterflies flying in the breeze, I see the changing colors of the flowers and even saw a snake one day slithering around by the new rock path. It makes me so much happier than looking at a lifeless lawn. 

But now that it is established, the yard doesn’t need my constant tending. And, believe me, that’s what we wanted, but I don’t have an excuse to go outside because there are no more weeds to pull.  

I truly am overworked and exhausted at the moment. Both of those things are true, but I’m wondering if I can come back to center a bit by having that dedicated outside time like I used to. I’ll try that today and see if it helps me return to….me.