This beautiful sunflower burst into bloom, I swear, the day after I posted this.
So even though the stinkbugs are frequenting my garden and are destroying my tomatoes (yes, it’s true. From the Alabama A&M and Auburn Universities: These critters feed on developing fruit by inserting their mouthpart into the fruit to feed. The symptoms are believed to be due to a toxin injected into the fruit when feeding.) (Eew)…still, there’s this incredible bloom, and others. Plus more that are close to popping.
And, while I’m lamenting the fact that I won’t be slow roasting any garden-harvested grape or plum tomatoes, I’m comforted, in part, by the sunflowers. It’s like they popped just in time to cheer me. The tomatoes are coming in and look fantastic from a distance…it’s upon closer examination that my heart sinks.
But then I look up. I see the sunflower against the blue. And I see the bee. And I mark the moment. Part defeat, but mostly triumph. It’s all an experiment…the garden, life. There are no guarantees, anywhere on any day. There is just trial and error, and practice and process, and stinkbugs and tomatoes with white spots, and a keeping-open of the heart.
And, not to oversimplify things, but I really think there’s something to that keeping-open of one’s heart. It doesn’t right all wrongs. In fact, it sometimes opens up worlds of heartache. But it’s something I can’t get away from. I come back to this idea again and again. This is my practice. To keep my heart open. Even in the midst of toxin-inducing stinkbugs. (damn them) (in a kind and open heart sort of way)
Sending a little love your way, m