220524 the greening is done. streams are converging. where does one go to from here?

May 24

 As soon as the snow is gone, it begins. First are the primitives, the fossils. They were on the planet before the trees and flowers. This was in April.

Shining club moss.

Pincushion moss

British soldiers lichen and reindeer lichen.

Fan club moss, and broom fork moss.

By the end of April, frail spring things are up, ephemeral in their smallness and underfoot, on the path, where a bit of sun penetrates.

Tiny yellow violet, the white and the blue come soon after.

The trillium barely up, but its buds are already nodding awake.

Carolina spring beauty, although the leaves about it are the trout lily.

Trout lily: Its leaves are everywhere, but only a few of them flower.

The azure bluet, in the meadow, like an alpine flower.

We were only away a few days, but have missed the waiting time.

It is green now.

The interrupted fern is already being interrupted.

*****

Saturday a storm came through. The witches are in flower.

The upheaval is still in motion. It is "still", and in motion. Like the eye in a storm, there is a pause. No, like a leaf in an updraft, I am driven by the turbulence of change in time. I have written a mantra: that the leaf will come to earth. The wind will drop and K and I will be in a new place and time. We will for a while have a plan (haha). The universe will unfold, or the time-streams, perhaps, will fold. There are so many streams converging, like the waters that pour and rush down the hill.

*****

I don't know who I am anymore. I was doing the life that was happening and the faraway plans and dreams, that were decades away in a future, are suddenly off the table and gone, here in the future that is now. So how do I walk forward from here? The life I was doing is off the table and gone. 

Some things that I knew and understood about the world seem old and cardboard and faded and I find myself relearning so much, learning again and saying, yes, I knew this before but it meant something smaller. As if it did not cut deep enough the first time. 

Joy, too, and other feelings: I don't remember them going this deep before. Or I never let them, or I didn't know how! How can one lose that? Do I just not remember? There was always so much going on when I was thirty-seven, and forty-seven.

*****

It is almost the end of May. When did that happen? The year only just started, didn't it?

Turkey vulture over the meadow.

Keep well. The pandemic is not over but summer is almost here and we can be outside. (Except for those pesky blackflies!)

Mumma Yaga