The Summer of Re-Wilding

A weed is a plant that roots and blooms in the cultivated gardens and grasses of humans. Weeds are wild, germinating in the dirt, greeting and greening the earth. Weeds are spread by bugs and birds and wind. We humans don't like weeds because they remind us of our wildness, of our wilderness within. Weeds remind us of the wilderness of the universe. And so we seek to prune and pull and plant what pleases us. This summer, I have allowed the weeds to grow near me. Just to see. I've pulled away dry old dandelion greens and cleared the tallest stems from our walking path. But the rest is spreading, stretching, seeking sun, and singing. Did you know that clovers have small flowers? They look like yellow bells. 

This summer, I have roamed and run through the woods. I have found feathers and ferns and wildflowers. I have liberated the trees, which means that I have removed fallen dead wood from their branches. I have taken trash - beer cans, plastic bags, and old glass. I have found and photographed mushrooms. I have stepped into streams and sought sunbeams. I have loved the moss, and I have kissed trees. I have tripped over rocks and roots. I have slowed down and I have soared.  I have spoken to the squirrels. I have seen bears and deer, and one skunk. 

I saw a small turtle tumble down a waterfall. As she rolled by, splashing over moss and stone, I wondered if this was an intentional leap, a search for wisdom, adventure, supper, or a nest. I wondered if it was an accident, a sudden, scary slip. Then I wondered if it was everything all at once --- seeking, tumbling, and discovering! 

Oh, the wild. The wild! 

May you, gracious, gorgeous Mother Earth, be free to be wild. 

And may you then re-wild each one of us.