To be quite frank, it has, all things considered, been a rather abysmal week. This past Monday, some of my material items were tragically stolen (that’s a story for another day, folks). After recognizing my foolishly intense dependence to my MacBook (as well as my favorite right shoe, which the thief also took from my clutches. I still have my left shoe. Strange times indeed…), I decided to take a stroll down my meandering country road. I stood at the road’s intersection, situated at the top of a gravelly hill, and observed the mismatched verdure of the valley.
Innumerable trees dotted the landscape, and neighbor’s strangely picturesque chicken coop looked like a miniature dwelling in a children’s toy box. The dying sun lent the leaves a golden tinge, a thousand shades of green flickering in the pre-dark gloom. Nature, I think, is too often idealized, revered for its beauty rather than its thereness — its ability to continue growing and thriving in new forms, even in the midst of apparent chaos. Rip up a plant and wayward seeds will take root in its wake. Mow a field yet the grass still continues to stretch for sunlight, not stymied even by the mower’s oppressive blade. Lose a MacBook and… well… a new one will likely *not* grow to take its place. Perhaps this comparatively small misfortune was a good lesson for me, in the end — a reminder not to become overly reliant on a mere a piece of technology… (and right shoes! Who needs ’em, anyways?)
Last Friday, I slept outside in one of the tree-lined locations which has become a regular haunt of mine. The sky that night was eerily clear, affording me full view of the star-speckles heavens — the constellations I regrettably have yet to learn. While feeling the rocky ground against my back was not ideal in the realm of comfort, it did remind me of my own relationship to nature as a human being who is, in fact, part of the earth’s larger ecology. How sad that I’ve been conditioned to slumber in my own pillow-strewn bed…
I’ve also begun the bush-clearing foundational stage of cob oven building. Its construction is not *yet* interesting enough, I’ve decided, to warrant an anecdotal inclusion in this post. But stay tuned, dear reader, for soon I have no doubt this clay-straw-brick structure will prove very fascinating indeed!
(….Thank you ever so kindly for suffering through this parenthetically-dense post. Sometimes one is simply in the mood for a good parenthetical….)
Lily, you are quite the wordsmith! I had to consult a dictionary for a number of words in your post- thank you. I adore the opening sentences to your second paragraph. I am not sure I know what a miniature dwelling in a children’s toybox is, but I am delighted by the concept. In line with the previous comment, I’m glad you could look on the positive and bright side of things as well as create a really neat analogy to nature. A MacBook although made by Apple isn’t an apple that will grow again. I too am puzzled by the missing shoe. They only took one, huh. I look forward to hearing, reading and seeing more about your brick oven.
An alternative title to this post could have been “I still have my left shoe.” Your commitment to seeing the bright side of your misfortune is admirable.
That you left the comfort of your pillow strewn bed to gaze at the night sky and its thereness seems to be more than enough learning. When it comes to nature I think paying attention is learning and knowing what you don’t know is learning. Very enjoyable, parenthetical, read!