What is the Grass?

"A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child?....I do not know what it is any more than
he..." (from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, 1855)

 

I walk along the beach and smell the salt air

While Midwest soil

Makes my heart-sack boil--

With longing for wronging to bare?...

 

(Walk2Write, 5-14-2013)

 

It may be that I've waited too long to write about a recent turf-grass field trip to WFREC in Jay. I think the simple words that were forming about my impressions got lost somewhere along the road to Illinois and then back again to Florida.

 



I wanted to write something easy to read, something "out of hopeful green stuff woven," but the checkerboard plots of different grasses being trialed remind me of people I have known and will know.

They grow. They struggle. They reach for light while their stolon-like efforts at reaching out to the world get stifled. Trouble comes along. Sickness, pain, soul-drought, attacks, and setbacks follow. Weeds take over. Truth rings hollow--no longer filtered by a healthy root system. It washes away and takes nutrient-rich, toiled-for soil with it.

Nearby streams will grow turbid with dreams of a better life washed away in a flash flood of dashed expectations.

 

 

Then, something hopeful happens. Someone comes along and tends the leanness, the meanness of the soil. It is amended. Healing earthworms move in, leaving their castings behind them, cleaning the wounded, bruised, and battered dirt.

 

And the grass grows and grows and grows, making rich the soil again, supporting trees and life and filtering. Truth again.

 

 

 

"I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,

A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,

Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and

Remark, and say Whose?" (Leaves of Grass)  

'Iceland! Greenland!': The Peaks and Pitfalls of Living and Hiking in Northwest Florida

Beautiful but deadly Mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia) at Bear Creek Educational Forest

When I was a young lass long ago, about Middle School age (we called it Junior High back then), a friend of mine and I--we knew somehow that we were Misfits, aka Nerds--thought that we could transcend the Difficulty Du Jour by aligning it with either Iceland or Greenland. Simply put, if the temperature in winter-time P.E. class was bone-chilling cold, we would exclaim to each other, "Iceland!," hoping that the warming geothermal properties of that region would make themselves felt in our parallel universe (Illinois). As you can imagine, "Greenland!" could just as easily make our sweat-soaked, late-summer school days seem cool and spring-like. It might be the remnants of nerdity in me, but I still find this "Opposites or Negatives Attract the Positive Effect" useful or at least interesting in certain situations.

For example, on Friday afternoon, SAM and I were thinking that a hilly hike along Bear Creek Trail on our way to Tallahassee this weekend would be a great way to unwind from a fairly flat week. It was a much warmer day than we had anticipated, but as we were approaching the exit from I-10, I told him that I was at least more than happy to not be bothered by ticks in all of our forays into the forest (so far) in Florida. There I was, as usual, patting myself on the back and pleased as can be.

Humongous fungus in Bear Creek Educational Forest, late April 2013

Then, as we took to the trail, I stopped along the way, as usual, to take a few pics of fascinating things like this humongous fungus. Apparently, Opposites or Positives (thinking we were finally immune from ticks) can also Attract the Negative Effect. This must be a law of some kind, I'm sure, and not to be trifled with. As you can imagine, all the way home, even a day after the hike (ticks can and do hide and wait for you in vehicles), we were picking off ticks and pushing them out the car window or dropping them down the rest area toilet as we found them feasting on various body parts.

Every time I sent a tick sailing through the air or flushed away to Septic Paradise, I thought to myself, "Iceland! Greenland!" A simple stress solution from childhood. Not a bad idea even now. Oh, and keep moving while hiking in Florida. That's an even better idea.

B[ur]P: You're Feastin' on Oil, Gulf Coast!

Besides preparing for and hosting a prenuptial feast at our home and making sure that the big day for Daughter and future (now) Son-in-law proceeded "without a hitch" (except for the ultimate one, haha), not much has been going on here lately for me to write about. Well, except for the usual odd thought or two. I couldn't help but wonder about the incredible amount of traffic going to and from Pensacola Beach the past couple of weekends. The normal 40-minute drive to and from home became a much-extended (try twice as long) time for reflection and counting of blessings. What could be enticing these hordes of people to nothing more than a long stretch of sand held together by saltwater on one side and big buildings on the other? After all, aren't there still tar balls floating around after three years?

Pensacola Beach in much happier days (January--when the tourists were not here yet)

Was it just the long, stormy, and very snowy Winter making everyone and her brother ache to fly South and escape the cold and darkness?

Shrimp expertly prepared and arranged by Steven's Market Deli and Catering in Pace

Or was the promise of seldom-seen and tasted seafood delicacies like these succulent shrimp just too much temptation to resist for those unfortunate enough to live inland? Actually, that last bit might be closer to the truth. You see, BP money has been spewing its way all across the Southeast and even farther north, enticing people with "slick" advertising to come and visit the Gulf Coast and forget all about Winter...and tar balls. Oh yes. Those pesky little things.

Walk2Write's Famous Meatballs--not tar balls

Well, for the most part they now exist only in the bellies of certain bacteria that love to feast on oil and in the minds of some attorneys who probably keep them in jars or maybe in mothballs as evidence for future litigation. Because billions of dollars might not be enough to satisfy so many businesses hungry for more tourists and the money that they spend. How many businesses? It's hard to say for sure. According to one law firm (above link), "businesses do not need to be located on the Gulf Coast to file a BP oil spill claim. Any business owner who can show that their operations experienced a revenue decrease in 2010 may qualify for compensation from the settlement fund." Apparently, the fun(ding) may never end, or at least not until BP does.

If only there were more weddings instead of drilling disasters keeping the economy going. I happen to know a couple of weary wedding planners who nevertheless do a great job of mixing things up and noting little ironies--like, how weird is it that the bride and groom's seemingly random pouring of sand for part of the ceremony yielded an image remarkably similar to one of yin and yang? Very. Weird.

'Bind Us Together': Celebrating Five Years of Blogging and a Journey Home to Southern Illinois

Rappelling ropes bound to a tree at Giant City State Park

It might not seem like much to you, but a 5-year blogiversary is a huge milestone--not millstone--for me. The reason I threw that millstone in there? Some years back when we lived in Paducah, Kentucky, we (SAM, Daughter, and I) attended a church where the people loved to sing a particular hymn at the end of each service. I guess our family has a strange sense of humor because we used to joke about it every Sunday after church. 

"Bind us together with shoelace and leather! Bind us together, O Lard!" If you've ever lived in the South, you know what I mean. It may be a deep-fried life, hot as hell sometimes and crisp with promise and not much else, but at least you can depend on your friends and family through good as well as bad times. They lift you up instead of dragging you down like a millstone around your neck. 

Rappelling ropes bound to people below 

SAM on a trail in Giant City State Park, March 15, 2013

No, it's not really the "lard" that flavors life in the South. And, yes, I'm including life in Southern Illinois too. There is something mysterious and wonderful about that place.

 

I moved there the summer before my junior year in high school, a confusing and vulnerable time for any young person. Life could have taken a wrong turn for me, but somehow things worked out. Everywhere I looked and listened, people were talking about Jesus. "Jesus Saves!" signs were posted on telephone poles and trees alongside country roads we took to school and work each day. My dad would poke a little fun at them and remark "Oh yeah? Moses invests!" He didn't mean any disrespect. The move meant big changes for him too. Back then, at least to me, he seemed to take everything in stride. But he was probably just as confused and vulnerable as I was. I think we all are at one time or another. We might think we can handle it alone, but we can't. 

Ties that bind us together: they're not lard, and they aren't shoelace and leather. Joking aside, somehow, somewhere we find the ones that fit--if we're prayed for, lifted up, blessed by and with family and friends.

Thank you, blogging friends, for sharing the past five years with me. I've enjoyed your good company along the way.

Herb of Remembrance: Rosemary in the Garden and on the Brain

The skies have been leaden and
Some palm fronds are dead in
The tropical garden, you see.






No, spring time's not here yet
Vernal Equinox is its outset--
This fact--I have known it for years.

Still, the bulbs and some rhizomes
Pop some color into my home's
Drab winter garden and pots.

But the best thing in bloom now
Isn't showy or highbrow
It's the Herb of Remembrance; it's Rosemary.



This quite humble herb
Is used by cooks quite superb
In dishes with fishes and chicken

But the way I prefer mine
Is smelled like fine wine
With a waft of the scent to my brain

(It helps me work on my thinking
Instead of wine drinking
Too much in the afternoon warmth.)

Rosmarinus officinalis 'prostratus'
Is friendlier to visitors than the "Catus"
As it won't mind a pinch or a snip or a tug

So give it a try
If you chance to stop by--
Your brain and I
Will be ever so glad that you did!

Tommy Emmanuel Visits Pensacola and Makes Waves

Who is the greatest guitarist alive? Live (in concert)? I would argue that Tommy Emmanuel is the answer to both questions. If you watch just a few minutes of this rather lengthy video, you will understand what I mean.

To top off the celebration of our 33rd wedding anniversary this past weekend, SAM and I attended a concert sponsored by WSRE (local PBS station) at Pensacola State College (Jean and Paul Amos Performance Studio) on Sunday evening. The auditorium was rather small, but the experience was huge.

It's a wave that washes over your head and carries you away. You don't mind, though. You are not afraid. The music immerses you, but you're not submerged. You become part of the liquid, the music, the response. Do you respond by clapping, whistling, hooting? It doesn't matter if you just sit there like a lump. Well, maybe it does matter. Cameras all around the auditorium are capturing every movement, every expression of joy, sorrow, elation, adulation. The entire concert is being recorded.

Who knows? There might be a shot of SAM and me in a new video production someday. Now that's a scary thought!