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I appear to have failed in my duty to conquer, subjugate, and otherwise force Nature to do my bidding. Admittedly, I didn't really TRY very hard.
I began this spring with the vague objective of cleaning up my household and property. I have been living with what I suppose one might dub a sort of down heel, white trash aesthetic. I let about half of my yard grow wild last year. This year I aimed to reduce it to about a quarter of my yard. I succeeded, so yay I guess. Frankly, the area I left untouched looks pretty unsightly. The burdocks and pokeweeds are scary huge. My land loves producing them. They don't hurt anything but sometimes, standing out back and seeing weeds as tall as small trees encroaching on "my" part of the yard, I feel a powerful urge to grab my machete and hack and slay them, and mow it all down to a neatly controlled patch of dirt and grass like it used to be.
My land also apparently enjoys producing poison ivy, which I discovered as I tried hacking a bunch of vines spreading on my trees and all over the property and apparently stuck my face in some. I spent two miserable weeks pretending like no, it doesn't really itch much, don't feel the need to scratch it at all, when I wanted to scrape my skin off with sandpaper and douse the wounds in rubbing alcohol. Sort of start fresh, you know.
I created two gardens this year. Well, I tried anyway. The plants out back never came up at all. It was really dry and I put them in a little late, so perhaps that's the reason. I also planted a lettuce garden up front. They all came up nicely. The massive groundhog who squeezed under my woefully inadequate fence is certainly enjoying them! I just spent five minutes watching him feast on my carefully watered crops. I finally scared him off, although if he had just stayed I'm not sure what I would have done. Beaned him with a shovel maybe? I'm not the violent type as a rule, but luckily he doesn't know that.
I guess the pokeweeds sort of offend my sensibilities and ideas about how one's property "ought" to be. The poison ivy is a danger to my personal comfort. The groundhog is consuming things that I have cultivated for my own use. I guess I don't mind that much. I know I could douse the lawn with chemicals to get rid of the ivy and weeds (for a time, at least). I could shoot my groundhog neighbor (I won't, but you better believe that I'm going to improve my fence). Ultimately, I know that this idea that I own this land is a fiction. A fiction I appreciate for various reasons, but it will still be here long after me and mine are gone. Why battle against the inevitable, try to enforce stasis and conformity on the earth?
Maybe all of this is just a lengthy rationalization for not doing a bunch of tedious yardwork. I'll have to meditate on all of it.
Just as soon as I get that fence fixed.
I began this spring with the vague objective of cleaning up my household and property. I have been living with what I suppose one might dub a sort of down heel, white trash aesthetic. I let about half of my yard grow wild last year. This year I aimed to reduce it to about a quarter of my yard. I succeeded, so yay I guess. Frankly, the area I left untouched looks pretty unsightly. The burdocks and pokeweeds are scary huge. My land loves producing them. They don't hurt anything but sometimes, standing out back and seeing weeds as tall as small trees encroaching on "my" part of the yard, I feel a powerful urge to grab my machete and hack and slay them, and mow it all down to a neatly controlled patch of dirt and grass like it used to be.
My land also apparently enjoys producing poison ivy, which I discovered as I tried hacking a bunch of vines spreading on my trees and all over the property and apparently stuck my face in some. I spent two miserable weeks pretending like no, it doesn't really itch much, don't feel the need to scratch it at all, when I wanted to scrape my skin off with sandpaper and douse the wounds in rubbing alcohol. Sort of start fresh, you know.
I created two gardens this year. Well, I tried anyway. The plants out back never came up at all. It was really dry and I put them in a little late, so perhaps that's the reason. I also planted a lettuce garden up front. They all came up nicely. The massive groundhog who squeezed under my woefully inadequate fence is certainly enjoying them! I just spent five minutes watching him feast on my carefully watered crops. I finally scared him off, although if he had just stayed I'm not sure what I would have done. Beaned him with a shovel maybe? I'm not the violent type as a rule, but luckily he doesn't know that.
I guess the pokeweeds sort of offend my sensibilities and ideas about how one's property "ought" to be. The poison ivy is a danger to my personal comfort. The groundhog is consuming things that I have cultivated for my own use. I guess I don't mind that much. I know I could douse the lawn with chemicals to get rid of the ivy and weeds (for a time, at least). I could shoot my groundhog neighbor (I won't, but you better believe that I'm going to improve my fence). Ultimately, I know that this idea that I own this land is a fiction. A fiction I appreciate for various reasons, but it will still be here long after me and mine are gone. Why battle against the inevitable, try to enforce stasis and conformity on the earth?
Maybe all of this is just a lengthy rationalization for not doing a bunch of tedious yardwork. I'll have to meditate on all of it.
Just as soon as I get that fence fixed.