Wading down the slope from our little home, the weeds and shrubs thriving in summer heat, the small paths made by deer and others, I come to the grove of 30 High Bush Blueberry plants all now taller than me. High Bush Blueberries were commercially bred here in Putney 30 years ago at the nursery owned by the US Senator who came up with the solution to the US war in Viet Nam- “Declare victory and bring the boys home!”
I’ve come to pick blueberries for dessert with the neighbors this evening to go over banana ice cream. But I find only a few handfuls that are ripe and ready and dark and sweet. But mostly the birds and deer have eaten what is ripe. There are many many still green blueberries, promises for later.
But there is another problem- we have not practiced recent good plant care. John Meyer spent several grueling weeks clearing this patch of weeds and shrubs years ago and then Marshall and I laid down weed cloth covered with wood chips. But since that time we’ve done precious little. And now there needs to be major pruning, some transplanting, and another overhaul of removing all the non-blueberry plants blocking light from each blueberry bush.
Like many things, it just needs a little regular maintenance, a little time doing the small things so they don’t grow into the chaos of overgrown, invaded, interrupted, and obstructed. Cleaning the refrigerator, spiritual life, communications with certain special people or situations, a health/healing crisis- all these need some small regular thing.
And life and the world just gets too busy and filled up and so some small thing that we know should have gotten done and for good reason goes amiss and undone and accumulates and builds up. Simplicity and priorities are still the underpinnings of so much important stuff, on the one hand. On the other hand, life is too full, there is too much going on, and the choices are difficult- when there are choices.
At times I am made weary simply by knowing that there is not more time and energy to do the compassionate thing for myself or my beloveds or some stranger or the blueberries. This afternoon as the sun sweats Vermont under 80 degrees and big humidity, I am thinking of the many dear ones whose health is in pain and trouble and I long that all my love and compassionate attention could be unobstructed and directed like a great river for more hours.
But maybe life is a long witness of these many imperfections in ourselves and others- the pain we can’t touch, the call that never gets made, the life done alone in the difficult passage, the mystery that never gets understood. Might we come to understand these as part of the beauty of a complex creation by and by. I know my own impatience limits this learning for me most often in light of my own pain or the numbers of people I know of and want to reach.
Eventually, I’ll get down to the blueberries with tools of destruction and make clear the way for light. By and by, I’ll get down that list of calls I’ve been meaning to make. And I know that friend who I’ve been wanting to call me and hear my latest adventure in delight and despair will be in touch as they are able, as time allows, as we remember what is important, how it all connects, when we pull out of the busyness of all the too much.
Last night Marshall and I had friends to dinner, a mercy dinner really for a young couple just moving into their first home and a baby due in two months.
We were talking about pet names that couples have for one another. They share with us that at home in Korea there is a newish tradition of greeting ones true love with -Hello Myself. Surely, this must be one of the most romantic and spiritual expressions of love and unity.