Its strange how other things can take me away from gardening – and just when I resolved to let few things get off my radar. A call to do contract work. Difficult, stressful, no clear solutions, black is white and white is black. Unethical behavior – it seems to be pervasive nowadays. Exhausted, I finally extricate myself by bowing out.
Back to the garden. It is still, lonely, quiet, humble – still delicate, gentle, beautiful, – today wet and windswept. But a bit of turmoil has crept in. Dark energy when I am trying to knit things together. Maybe I should move that large potted Japanese Maple into the greenhouse for the night. It hasn’t been hardened off for more than a few days and the predicted 25 mile an hour winds could stress it. At dusk I pick up the heavy, wet five gallon pot. I trip on that small pile of weeds I never took away. The pot, tree, and I tumble forward in a split second. No synapses could even meet to discuss what movements I should make. Knee injured on cement anchoring greenhouse. I hobble to house leaving Japanese Maple pot soil spilled and roots exposed, but at least in greenhouse. Try to figure out if anything is actually broken. Maybe a cracked kneecap, I’m guessing. Knee stew.
The medical people. I don’t usually go there. Longer sentences would mean my breathing is normal which it is not yet. But using a clay poultice on my knee seems a form of gardening – gentle, delicate, beautiful. Thanks Raymond Detreit for writing one of my oldest and most revered books, Our Earth Our Cure (A Swan House Book). I believe it is almost out of print, but there is another which provides similar insights: The Healing Power Of Clay: The Natural Remedy for Dozens of Common Ailments by Michel Abehsera. Clay has gotten me out of close scrapes before.
The wind made it all the way here,
Out of breath
With so much to tell.