CSA Week 14

~ Week B Half Share members + Full Share members ~

Sep 10, 2024

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An excerpt of Mary Oliver's "At the River Clarion"

3.

Of course for each of us, there is the daily life.
Let us live it, gesture by gesture.
When we cut the ripe melon, should we not give it thanks?
And should we not thank the knife also?
We do not live in a simple world.

4.

There was someone I loved who grew old and ill
One by one I watched the fires go out.
There was nothing I could do

except to remember
that we receive
then we give back.

5.

My dog Luke lies in a grave in the forest, she is given back.
But the river Clarion still flows from wherever it comes from
to where it has been told to go.
I pray for the desperate earth.
I pray for the desperate world.
I do the little each person can do, it isn’t much.
Sometimes the river murmurs, sometimes it raves.

6.

Along its shores were, may I say, very intense cardinal flowers.
And trees, and birds that have wings to uphold them, for heaven’s sakes–
the lucky ones: they have such deep natures,
they are so happily obedient.
While I sit here in a house filled with books,
ideas, doubts, hesitations.

7.

And still, pressed deep into my mind, the river
keeps coming, touching me, passing by on its
long journey, its pale, infallible voice
singing.

Yesterday a friend called to check in & throughout the conversation I watched three dragonflies rest on three summer flowers that were browning, no longer their vibrant August purple. They perched steadily just inches away from me and, with this great luck I was able to take note of their patterned, transluscent wings. At least one damsel had an orange body, an autumn vibrancy, most likely a Meadowhawk. The tips of another’s wings shimmered red, an Eastern Red Damsel. With the surrounding greens of clover, jewelweed, comfrey, and milkweed, the small, mostly unmoving red body still tends to catch the eye.

This season four small areas around the farm were planted with natives. This has been a prominent subject of my attention as I notice the sacred habitats around and within the farm, as I understand the land that we disrupt with the tasks of farming, or as the soil, opened to the sky sits vulnerable to invasive plants. The bittersweet has wrapped itself tightly around the southern most corner of the deer fence. The autumn olive beems bright with berries underneath the power lines cleared years ago. The marsh tucked in the woods beyond the field has seen a flush of multi-flora rose, and in the spring we watch the garlic mustard bloom.

But to name just a small amount of what has been introduced…. swamp milkweed, rose milkweed, joe pye weed, butterfly weed, sneezeweed, marsh marigold, native grasses, cup plant, false sunflower, wild bergamot, foxglove beardtongue, hairy beardtongue, mountain mint. With these blooming, establishing, spreading plants we are lucky to witness expansion of living biodiversity. To cherish & tend to these habitats with tangible action feels like a deep & privileged responsibility. Similarly to my personal ethics of farming, when approaching the removal of invasive plants or the introduction of new plants I hope to center respect, mystery, humility, mentorship, history & patience.

Every day I remind myself of all that I have to learn while living on this earth.

All that I am not owed and that I have to share.

Of the smallest of worlds taking place all around me; this remains a strong force when overcome with the varying emotions of solitude.

And as Mary Oliver wrote….

Of course for each of us, there is the daily life.
Let us live it, gesture by gesture.
When we cut the ripe melon, should we not give it thanks?
And should we not thank the knife also?
We do not live in a simple world.