Connecting with the Earth

I woke up to rain and more rain but as the day went by the breaks between showers began to grow long enough that it seemed like a good idea to venture out. Motivating myself to get out into the yard, into the mud and wet of springtime is not easy after the dulling effect of wintertime gloom, but once I am out there, the freshness of the damp earth and clean air is invigorating.
While the grandchildren jumped on the trampoline I began clearing one of the small spaces of chickweed which had overwintered nicely, and got the soil ready for seeds.
I found a nice fat carrot forgotten from the fall and put it aside for dinner while the chickens stood greedily outside the garden fence hoping I would toss them some roots covered with bugs. The malaise of winter slowly began to seep out of my soul into the earth.
With each seed dropped into the wet earth came thoughts of people in Japan, of farmers whose crops cannot be eaten, of parents worried about how much radiation their children might absorb from the failing reactors, of floodplains covered with death, of springtime ruined by disaster. I thought too, of lands experiencing drought, where the abundance of water that has been falling in this very wet Pacific Northwest Spring would be a cause to celebrate. These thoughts make me grateful for the mud and the fertile ground with its small green sprouts lifting their heads towards the sky in search of sunshine.
After a while, the muddy-wet-joyful venture of digging up burdock roots began under the supervision of chickens looking for tasty worms. My task was to take a few pictures without getting mud on the camera.
Burdock grows in disturbed soil by the side of the road or in places where grandchildren like to dig. It was a surprise to me a few years ago to discover that the same annoying weed that sends out copious burrs to stick to your clothes and tangle your hair is really a biennial plant with a pleasant tasting edible root. Unlike yellow dock and plain old dock which are not edible, the burdock - surely named for its burrs!- is one of creation's gifts for those who hunger for foods that thrive without a lot of care and are as local as that patch of unsupervised ground off the deck. Simmered with potatoes, beets or other root crops it adds a mild but distinctive taste to an at home, from-the-garden-dinner.
There was just enough time to plant kale and lettuce, and to harvest a few roots and greens before the rain started again in earnest. Later the household sat down to a dinner that included from the garden: Brussels sprouts leaves simmered with mustard greens, arugula and sorrel salad, and sliced sunchokes (previously harvested) simmered with local mushrooms, butter and garam marsala spices. The burdock was saved for another day as I like to soak it first to remove all the mud.
I am grateful for the time and space to become more connected to the earth, and for the opportunity to transition from an old way of living that was disconnected from the earth and all living things. It is painful to realize how much damage has occurred while I, and others like me, slumbered. But pain, wisely used, can motivate positive change.
I am awake now, at least most of the time and I offer prayers and send good thoughts to the farmers whose crops cannot be sold, to those whose crops will fail due to drought, to those farmers who cannot afford to buy the seed or the chemicals that will make their crops grow in soil that has been drained of nutrients, and to all whose land will be contaminated for years and years to come.
I also send money via Mercy Corps as it is one way I can share my abundance with those so far away.