Give and Take
Life is savage in a garden. I pull weeds with abandon and don’t hesitate to break a cutworm in half, and even the most privileged plants, which I water and weed, talk to and coddle, are eaten eventually.
Nonetheless, I go to my garden for a moment of peace each morning. I entered the gated sanctuary yesterday just in time to watch a catbird catch and devour a swallowtail butterfly, master of transformation and a beautiful pollinator I would just as soon keep. But undeterred by my presence, the bird ate it, leaving behind only one wing.
A community is an ecosystem, and works best when we know ourselves and interact with care, taking what we require and giving what we can. I have a couple friends who need help right now, and as I offer my small contributions, I am watching myself for pride or resistance, checking that it is love and compassion leading the way as I make an extra stop at the store or whip up another batch of custard, stop to snip some flowers and put them in a jar. Small acts, possibly important. Maybe more helpful to me than to them.
At the lake, I watch a great blue heron wading in the shallows, and wish both the heron and the frogs the best. And tears spring to my eyes as I watch the lovely swoop and dip of the swallows above the water. A swallow can eat a thousand bugs a day. That sounds good to me, but an insect flitting above the water would beg to differ. But that is the way of things. We’re always breathing in and breathing out.
Brilliant first line! “Life is savage in a garden.” I love the way you help us to look at life and ourselves. Bravo.
Dear Sarah, this is a perfect piece. Thank you. I found a broken butterfly on the sidewalk this week too. I carried it home and put it in our garden as a decent burial. Had similar thoughts as I walked along knowing its demise had probably involved a car.