230625 philosophy my father a red salamander

 June 25

I thought I would walk up the second meadow, I might see something new. I looked under a log, which I do from time to time to see if there is a salamander under it. At the edge of the meadow, just by the trees the yellow-spotted salamander can be found. I was surprised to find a tiny red salamander i have never seen the likes of before! It is the Eastern Newt, in its juvenile stage. 

"They live in terrestrial forest habitats for two to seven years during their juvenile stage. Even though they generally remain hidden under moist leaf litter and debris, you may see them moving about on rainy days and nights, foraging insects, worms, and spiders. This is the stage of life you’re most likely to see an Eastern Newt. If you spot one, be careful – they have glands that secrete a potent neurotoxin when they’re threatened."

(From BirdwatchingHQ.com) 

I found a second one the next day! They are tiny, about two inches long. 

Is that what called me up the meadow? We look for reasons. We look for the "why" in life, because somehow it will matter if there is a why, otherwise, what is the point? This is the philosopher's search. Looking for a reason, not just mindless chaos built on the physics of the universe. Much of my life have I wasted, (or not...) asking this question.

The world's existence is reason enough, to take care of it, since it is here, to take care of the flora and fauna on this planet, is enough reason for one's own life - our purpose. Clear. 

Each of us tips the earth just a little. 

If there was a god.

If there was some Purpose with a capital P, but it does not affect our actions, does it? We are still, because we are on the earth, able to give back, regardless of any bigger design, able to be kind to our fellow beings.

If one wants a purpose. If one simply asks why live, well, it's what we have: a chance to live, to breathe and feel our heart beating, to enjoy the joy, and perhaps the suffering is part of that chance, we have to take.

I was called up the meadow, then, and came to the witches' circle at the top, where there is an altar stone, under a clump of trees, on a raised area to the side, like the apse of a church. 

The witches' circle:

The altar stone:

*****

I want to write a book about my father, called the haphazard gardener, but he was an avid and good gardener. It is me who's the haphazard gardener, so maybe the book is about being the daughter of this man.

I think we don't know our parents until we ourselves are old and they are gone. It is only recently that I began to have some insight into his life from his own perspective.

He did not use a compost. He simply put the banana peels and vegetable leavings straight into the garden. He grew the best roses I have ever seen.

For 20 years he came to my home and tuned the lawnmower in the spring and did the spring tune-up on the bicycles. He was with me every step of my life, yet I never "saw" him. I never saw into his head or into his heart. I loved him from the the perspective of a daughter, but maybe that's why we get to meet in heaven, in John Prine's bar there: The Tree of Forgiveness. * We can have a drink (because in heaven it's all good) and I can tell him finally how much how much he meant to me. (magical thinking, believing, because it is comforting and less sad.)

My father never let me down. He had my back at every turn. But I wonder if he remembered times when he wished he had done something, times I forget. If we could compare notes, could I put his mind at ease?

He used to say that children are just as smart as grownups, they just have less experience. He was wonderful with children, patient and attentive, completely present. 

Father's day came and went, I don't remember ever wishing my father a happy father's day, but perhaps we did celebrate the day. I know that he tipped the earth, he was an agent of good and touched the lives of so many.

*****

 Best falafels yet. The chickpeas were tender and mashed down smoothly. I bake the mixture in the oven in big round cakes, instead of frying it in oil. Much healthier, so much easier to do and to clean up. Served with tahini sauce, lettuce and tomatoes in a pita.

*****

This is a cup fungus, also, much more poetically, called a violet fairy cup. It is a wonderful colour and shape. It burst out and grew in the few days of rain.

The arctic rattlebox: now that is a great name! I must look for the seed pods later, which I am thinking must be the "rattlebox" for which it is named.

We had that sudden flood of rain, and the tiny wild strawberries, which usually fruit and ripen one or two at a time and get eaten by the mice and moles the moment they are red, have burst out all at once. 

I discovered this Japanese iris, not native to Canada, in front of the maple tree in our yard, one of only two that grow there, so hopefully not aggressively invasive. It is very beautiful, and this bumblebee liked it. 

In the mornings I am up before the clouds! They sleep in the valley most nights and ascend into the sky once the sun is well up. 

Mumma Yaga

* John Prine, When I Get to Heaven, there is a live performance on youtube.