Mardi Meditations #2

Wild jasmine growing out from under my deck

 Every year, when I enter my backyard at the end of the summer, I am amazed by how quickly it is overtaken by wild growth. No matter how much we mulch or how carefully I trim back the new shoots in spring, August is a riot of green. Jasmine vines spill across pathways, and tendrils snarl my feet as a push my way back to the compost bin. 

It is easy to feel overwhelmed amid such unplanned and seemingly useless abundance, but quickly I understand that I am not alone. Calligraphy spiders drop and shake when I vibrate their tall grasses. Butterflies and moths in every shade from dark orange to highlighter yellow compete to outshine the afternoon sun. Anoles shift from green to brown as they make their way across the heat-swollen railings of the old back deck.

Every year, I let go of my desire to control this environment anew, and every year it is different. The scarlet rose mallow returns, but never in exactly the same place. 

Reading Rabbi Alan Lew's meditations on Teshuvah, I am reminded of Ursula LeGuin's concept of "Always Coming Home." How can a person be forever returning? That is the wonder of moving through the cycle of the year while growing ever older. That is the wonder of rehashing old conversations with new evidence, of walking the same circuits under different skies. 

That is, I suppose, the wonder. 

The "Secret Grotto" April - August, 2025