Tag: plants

It’s the Mindset, Stupid

I nearly made the same mistake with the Chinaberry tree as I did a decade ago with the Mimosa tree.

I must make even greater efforts to De-institutionalize my mind.

It’s like with the official Farmer’s Market, in the small city 40 minutes away, which grows along with the city, but doesn’t get any better, because there aren’t enough farmers and there are too many regulations.

A treasure from a local plant swap now starting to bloom, Plumeria, how exciting!
how it will hopefully look one day! It’s the tropical delight used for making leys in Hawaii, with a delightful fragrance.

Meanwhile the very localized, small, rural events have been well worth the time. At one we got several new plants I’m still excited about.

Catalpa tree is another I’ve been longing to grow, but only found available through a local swap.

Catalpa blossoms, the ‘worm tree’ as it’s called in these parts I’ve just learned from a local angler

And at another we ate better tacos than we’ve had in years. And at the last one I gave away lots of cheese, because I’m still too apprehensive about selling or even bartering it. Giving it away to strangers felt a baby step closer to that potential future possibility.

So it goes with the Chinaberry, too. At least this time I didn’t waste an entire decade believing the official nonsense that these trees are invasive and toxic and in the case of Chinaberry, even illegal.

But I did still waste almost a year, and that’s why I’m complaining now.

I’m disappointed with myself. I thought I knew better by now. But damn if old habits don’t die hard.

It’s not the same story exactly, but it sure does rhyme, and the refrain harkens back to a very common problem, not just my own.

I still did not trust my instincts, wisdom and preferences quickly enough.

Put into perspective, and relatively speaking, I have come a long way. I’m much better than I used to be and considering I know folks who still think vaccines are safe and effective, I could afford to be a bit more self-forgiving.

But I’m not getting any younger and time’s a wastin’! Trees don’t grow overnight, you know!

My little Chinaberry foraged/stolen from the abandoned lot where I first fell in love with it.

Instead of spending that year trying to identify the tree and wasting lots of precious time, I should’ve said at first sight–I love it, I want it, I will have it.

There is something magnificent about that speckled mahogany bark, those tropical-looking yellow berries, the glossy deep green foliage surviving even in drought in the dead of summer, that sleak curve of the trunk and the little grove it’s trying to form. I must have it. Pure instinct.

Instead of trying to germinate the berries, which is so much more challenging with many trees, I’d have taken cuttings right away. Instead of going to official sources, online and through various experts and professionals, I’d have gone to the most local source I could find, folks living in these parts for many generations.

I was given wrong identifications online, and from our university extension service that is the Master Gardeners, the usual Corporate-State fear propaganda of ‘invasive’ and ‘toxic’ and unsafe.

Because if they don’t sell it at Walmart or Lowes, it’s got to be bad. Because if it’s an ancient medicinal, it’s got to be poison.

They think they mean well, I suppose, sometimes.

But othertimes I think nope, not at all. They don’t mean to do well at all, they mean to stay compliant with the authorities. They mean to collect their paychecks and their pensions. They mean to think themselves well-meaning without ever examining themselves.

When we first came here and first becoming gardeners and stewards of this land, I vowed beyond our veggies I’d grow only ‘native species’. I didn’t know any better and that sounded to me like an admirable approach to a new venture.

I now think the term ‘native’ is itself highly suspect and what’s considered ‘invasive’ is highly relative and shifts with the breeze of the current oligarchy.

I will be satisfied when my intuition (I want that tree!) trumps my logic (what’s it called?) at the speed of the mind of a 3-year old.

It really is about the mindset, but not in the relentless Positivity sense of ‘everything is possible’ of the pop psychologists paid to entrain us to the status quo, but rather in the learn to Trust Yourself First mindset. Even in baby steps, even prolonged over decades, even against the tides more often than not.

No, not everybody, but enough to make it miserable for the few malcontents who just want to be left in peace and who care for truth and beauty over comfort, convenience, or malignant and uniformed collaboration.

Next post, all about the splendid, but illegal in Texas, Chinaberry tree.

Illegal beauty

Envy Is Everything

I’ve heard contention whether envy or jealousy is ‘le mot juste’ and while I’m interested in the semantics, in this particular case, for the moment, I’m more interested in the feelings.

Let’s just say, for the sake of this post and the wisdom I’m trying to impart within it, that envy, like its roots, denote from ‘envie’, or, ‘to desire’. That is, within this particular context, to desire something for its own sake, not to receive pleasure by withholding from another.

To desire something at the expense of another is a feeling I’ve not yet known, though I’m assured constantly it’s a quite universal feeling. Not that I’m saying at any level that I’d wish to share my spouse, as one example, with another for the sole sake that such an individual would benefit, at the level that I theoretically might, according to such anecdotes, from the accolades or astral benefits of sharing my spouse. Now that I’ve only managed to combombulat the issue, let me state it unequivocally: Desire is love without the commitment.

To say “J’ai envie de toi.” is a far more sexually explicit thing to say in French than to say “Je t’aime.” Yet both are translated often as “I love you.” In Spanish the two expressions prove even more nebulous.

Until this particular feeling enlightens my consciousness I can only say what I’ve experienced personally in that relative ballpark. I have “envied” only one person in my entire life—in this particular sense of I WANT what you’ve GOT—and it was not for her beau, or her looks, or her wealth—though that is not to say that any of those were not enviable. In fact, as enviable as any of these things might be, this young woman would have no idea whatsoever I ever ‘envied’ her at all. It was like 20 years ago, or so.

And yet, when I think of her, my heart is stroked. I get a knee-jerk reaction of nostalgia mixed with mystery that evokes in turn a tear-jerk reaction that is completely unique to this particular individual.

I don’t even remember her name. In fact, in the most attracting moments I ironically also found her a bit irritating—as odd as that sounds—too lively, too happy, too in love, or something.

She was blonde and bubbly and sleeping with the boss, so I really don’t knock my irritation too much. But, she had something else. It’s so extraordinarily rare anyone has anything I want, but she had it. To me, in a way I didn’t understand at all at the time, she had the ring of power.

And She had it so fucking good it burned. It burned me! My desire for what she had burned me, so hard, that over 20 years later, my biggest triumph in life is, #metoo. But not for her man, her plan, or her choices!

No, not that #metoo nonsense!

She knew the plants.

We walked through Prince William Sound Alaska, and the flora and fauna were like relatives to her. She knew her TERRITORY! Never, not ever before or since, have I felt that kind of envie.

And now I know, if she were to meet me again now, she’d say the very same thing about me.

She’d see in me what I saw in her: Pride in my territory.

And so, this strange young woman I knew for only a few months, in changing the course of my mind, changed the course of my life, for the better, forever.

And she has no clue about it, at all, and most likely never will.