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Most every night for the past three weeks, during the dry bitter cold and howling winds that have characterized this winter so far, I poured over the seed catalogs that started arriving before Christmas, savoring descriptions of beans and heirloom tomatoes and deep orange calendulas and rat tail radishes with spicy pods that grow five feet tall (definitely going to plant some of them!). Looking through seed catalogs this time of year is like going food shopping when you’re hungry. If I ordered all the varieties I checked, I’d have to quadruple the size of the garden. Last fall we had to put in a new leach field which left us with a bare circular space sheltered by ancient maples and white pines. I see a shade garden and envision improving the soil enough to plant goldenseal, wild ginger, lady slipper — the forest herbs — many of which are endangered. It’s a long term project but still there’s a lot to do next spring to begin. Then a couple of nights ago I went through the seeds I already have and last night I finally began to narrow my choices, forcing myself to be realistic. What do I have room for? What will we actually eat? Which herbs do I need to grow this year? Tonight I’ll continue the process, moving from vegetables and herbs to flowers.Come March, my office will be transformed into a greenhouse, the number of shelves and trays and lights expanding as the weeks pass and seedlings grow and more are started. I love the aroma of damp soil and growing things and enjoy the company of the seedlings as I work. Sometime in late April, depending on the weather, I’ll attach plastic to the large hoops outside my bedroom window to create a greenhouse and the seedlings will be moved outside and gradually hardened off. Some nights I add tarps to the frame for extra warmth and I’ve been known to wake up in the middle of the night and check the thermometer inside just to make sure my babies are okay.I imagine all this as I sit here and type and I can’t wait. Gardening, while a lot of work, is a great joy. It is also a great teacher. Each spring I am forced to be patient, to listen with my inner ears, see with my inner eyes. I rest my hands on the soil under which perennial roots awaken trying to sense the life in them. Did they make it through the winter? Each day I carefully check for the emergence of tiny green shoots and when I see them, I smile with a mixture of relief and wonder and whisper, “Welcome”.The garden is an oasis, a refuge from the stress and fear and despair so commonplace it seems normal, like it’s always been this way. The discrepancy between our daily lives and the reality of the “big picture” haunts me, gnaws at my thoughts, forces me to pay attention. I can’t shake it. Corporations spew poisons into the air, water, and soil with the blessing of the Bush administration. The mantra in this country — despite war in Iraq, despite the lack of decent jobs and health care, despite an economy that benefits the rich at the expense of the rest of us, despite the fact that the Earth is more threatened every day — is profit. Money is the only thing that counts. We may not believe this as individuals but it’s how we run our businesses and institutions and it’s the primary motivation of our government. What’s weird is most people seem to be as aware of this discrepancy as I am, and it bothers them, too. And yet it continues. Why? If we were in a burning building, we’d do everything we could to get out. We wouldn’t say, “Oh, the building is burning. Hmmm. I suppose I should do something,” and then just keep doing whatever. But this is what’s happening. Unfortunately, the environment isn’t a big issue politically. Health care, education, jobs, war, and terrorism take precedence. But everything is connected. Ravaging the Earth for scarce resources only causes more injustice, more inequality, more terror and fear. Without a healthy Earth we can’t possibly have healthy people or be at peace.The theme for this issue is “Women and the Earth”. Over the past few months I’ve taken great comfort in conversations I’ve had with strong, powerful women — particularly Diane Wilson, an Earth warrior of unparalleled commitment. We all seem to be saying the same thing: It’s time for women to wake up to our power and strength, to speak out and act (up). Woman have the vision, the energy, and the heart to create the world the way it should be. Several years ago at a conference on economic development in the context of Native culture and traditions on the Navajo Reservation in Window Rock, Arizona, I was hanging out with the other presenters in one of our rooms. We were lamenting the sad state of affairs in Native communities. I’ll never forget what one of the elders said. With a smile and a nod to the men in the room, as if to apologize in advance, she explained that, “It’s up to the women now. The men are tired, they have lost the way.” No one argued with her, not even the men who weren’t old or tired, but they knew what she meant. I didn’t think of it so much in terms of men and women as the masculine principle, the feminine principle. Our world is dangerously out of balance. Positions of power are characterized by Bush’s aggressive, put-your-dukes-up attitude. We need fierceness, yes, but fierceness that comes from compassion and the desire to connect and heal, fierceness that serves the whole and that honors life.Photo Credit: Willard Meeker
