The balsams in the area in northern Wisconsin where my husband and I own property are dying by the hundreds due to budworm disease that is making its way down from Canada. There are areas that look like a tornado has ripped through. Last summer we planted 60 white spruce around our property. They were 6 inches each, so we won’t see them mature. We did it for future generations, even beyond our grown children and their children who will someday inherit the place.
I have long been inspired by the story of Miss Rumphius (better known as the Lupine Lady), whose grandfather told her “You must do something to make the world more beautiful.” And so I have been planting lupine seeds around our property for several years. Some make it, some don’t. Some come up years later in the places where they were sown, much to my surprise. My grown children and my little grandsons know this story well and they’re watching it come to life. These are the things that can really make a difference. I often think about our current “leaders” and then I say to myself “This too shall pass.” It won’t be easy, and there’s a lot of work to do, but in the meantime, there are lupines and white spruces — and everything else other people are planting and creating (like a Peaceful Warrior Farm!) — for future generations.
Thank you for this! And thank you for inspiring @Sue Ann Gleason to write her piece after yours, which led me to you. It reminds me of the “building cathedrals” analogy—at one time I knew where I’d read it. That memory is long gone, but the sentiment has rooted in my bones. It was about raising children, but I’ve tried to apply—when I can silence the demons and news feeds and whatnot—to the whole of life. I am helping build a cathedral . . . I do the work and marvel at the beauty and give and accept help, knowing I won’t be here to see it finished, and that’s part of what makes it sacred.
Working past the weight and grief, that feeling that leaves us helpless. Sometimes I just need to keep my hands busy. Planting is one way. Cooking is another. Painting by numbers helps me solve problems with color. Writing helps me make sense of the world. I am thankful for the generous folks out there like you who continue to give of themselves, and encourage others to do in kind. Thank you, James.
A beautiful poem and reflection James. So true what Leonard said. I wrote a poem once called Breaking News. It is so easy to get caught up in it. Yet, the little things we do to serve others and the future may make all the difference. Why stop just because of the mad men that rule our world.
YES YES YES James, I feel the truth of your poem deeply, offering kindness to our hurting world, and am reminded of WS Merwins' famous poems Place - On the last day of the world / I would want to plant a tree.
Beautiful poem and story, James. Today, the word “meanwhile” shifts and kick starts me into planting whatever begs to be planted in this world. Thank you💕
This is so beautiful, James. Your poem makes me want to plant something beautiful today (except it's supposed to be a hundred degrees in the shade). Thank you.
A beautiful and uplifting message - thank you.
The balsams in the area in northern Wisconsin where my husband and I own property are dying by the hundreds due to budworm disease that is making its way down from Canada. There are areas that look like a tornado has ripped through. Last summer we planted 60 white spruce around our property. They were 6 inches each, so we won’t see them mature. We did it for future generations, even beyond our grown children and their children who will someday inherit the place.
I have long been inspired by the story of Miss Rumphius (better known as the Lupine Lady), whose grandfather told her “You must do something to make the world more beautiful.” And so I have been planting lupine seeds around our property for several years. Some make it, some don’t. Some come up years later in the places where they were sown, much to my surprise. My grown children and my little grandsons know this story well and they’re watching it come to life. These are the things that can really make a difference. I often think about our current “leaders” and then I say to myself “This too shall pass.” It won’t be easy, and there’s a lot of work to do, but in the meantime, there are lupines and white spruces — and everything else other people are planting and creating (like a Peaceful Warrior Farm!) — for future generations.
So, so beautiful. 🌿
Thank you for this! And thank you for inspiring @Sue Ann Gleason to write her piece after yours, which led me to you. It reminds me of the “building cathedrals” analogy—at one time I knew where I’d read it. That memory is long gone, but the sentiment has rooted in my bones. It was about raising children, but I’ve tried to apply—when I can silence the demons and news feeds and whatnot—to the whole of life. I am helping build a cathedral . . . I do the work and marvel at the beauty and give and accept help, knowing I won’t be here to see it finished, and that’s part of what makes it sacred.
One of your very best poems, James :). I see it all and say, "yes!" Thank you.
Working past the weight and grief, that feeling that leaves us helpless. Sometimes I just need to keep my hands busy. Planting is one way. Cooking is another. Painting by numbers helps me solve problems with color. Writing helps me make sense of the world. I am thankful for the generous folks out there like you who continue to give of themselves, and encourage others to do in kind. Thank you, James.
Beautiful, i needed to hear this, tending the earth and one another without expectation is the heart’s gift. 💜
So perfect for this moment. Thank you.
A beautiful poem and reflection James. So true what Leonard said. I wrote a poem once called Breaking News. It is so easy to get caught up in it. Yet, the little things we do to serve others and the future may make all the difference. Why stop just because of the mad men that rule our world.
Will consider your enticing retreat.
Thank you for this post and the invitation.
YES YES YES James, I feel the truth of your poem deeply, offering kindness to our hurting world, and am reminded of WS Merwins' famous poems Place - On the last day of the world / I would want to plant a tree.
Beautiful poem and story, James. Today, the word “meanwhile” shifts and kick starts me into planting whatever begs to be planted in this world. Thank you💕
Lovely
This is so beautiful, James. Your poem makes me want to plant something beautiful today (except it's supposed to be a hundred degrees in the shade). Thank you.
Seeds may, may not sprout...
sprouts may, may not become trees
Sow, plant, regard-full?