Loss & Acceptance

What is that time-honored saying again?  "If you can't beat them, join them?"  Okay, Lord, I'm beaten down to my marrow and I want to move past it. I'm ready to join up, to "go with the flow," to swim alongside rather than against the current.

If you were wondering what happened to ProfessorRoush and this blog over the past 6 weeks, there is a simple answer.  Mother Nature won.

She beat me.  The abundant, incessant rains that Kansas usually doesn't receive in July and August came despite all expectations, and the prairie grass remains green and rapidly growing, verdant and lush, vibrant even as the end of August nears.  During 27 years living here, on this plot of prairie, I've never before seen the Big Bluestem this tall, the "turkey feet" seedheads reaching above my head in places (photo left). Simply staying ahead of the lawn and keeping the yard mowed has consumed all my free time, and the garden and this blog (and ProfessorRoush) have suffered accordingly.  In a normal Kansas summer, in late July and August, the faucet closes and the flora slows down its growth and browns, reducing mowing chores to an every-other-week (or sometimes even longer) cycle.  At times, even at every-other-week frequency, I normally can barely see the difference between mowed and unmowed areas.

Not this summer.   This summer mowing the lawn was a weekly occurrence and continues to be, the grass so high each week that I am timing mowings between rains merely to be able to keep the house visible.  Okay, that's a little literary sprinkling of hyperbole, but I'm nearing my limits on seeing the bright side of the rains.  In fact, I have been tempted to start mowing twice each week, but I was unable to work in any extra mowing when the grass was almost continuously wet with rain or heavy morning dew.  I certainly have no trouble seeing the mowing lane edges this year and I should be bagging the cuttings lest they smother the lawn. And the mushrooms!  So many huge mushrooms sprouting from the rich prairie soil!

Consequently, my occasionally orderly landscape is a complete shambles, taken over by Morning Glory and Common Dayflowers, the former climbing up everything including the spent yucca seedheads (above right) and the latter (left) covering and smothering any small plants.  I've crawled over my beds twice this summer already, literally on my hands and knees, at eye level with the invaders, literally engaged in hand-to-weed conflict and they've simply outgrown me, outlasted me.  Now, in late August, I simply have surrendered the garden to the heat and my despair.

My grief over the condition of my garden, however, is nearing its end, denial long past, anger spent, bartering for more garden time ended, depression easing as the forecast clears.  I find myself, at last, ready to embrace and accept the chaos of my climate circumstances.  The soft blue Morning Glories have won me over, reflecting the Kansas sky back from the earth.  I am patient now, content to await the return of fall, hoping for better-than-usual red hues in that Big Bluestem. There is ultimately a quiet wisdom in acceptance, a simplicity that allows more sleep, a freedom from outer world concerns.  My new motto; "If you can't beat them, then accept them for all their beauty."