A Serious Reflection of Indigenous

The words native and indigenous are often interchangeable, though there are some distinctions. The word native comes from the Latin word nativus which means “born”, and the word indigenous comes from the Latin word indigena which means “born in”.

Both of these words can be used to describe people and plants that originate from a particular region or country. Both can come under assault from invaders and invasives, and these refer to people or plants that do not originate from the region or country.

Some will say that nothing in this world is permanently placed and survival of a species often requires movement from place to place. Some say that survival of the fittest should be the law of the land. However, survival of the fittest is often confused with survival of the richest. In any case, even with a heirarchy there should be room for all of us if our society values this. Unfortunately, society often sides with what is fun and comfortable, and not with what is fair and just.

We all should know by now that Christopher Columbus was not the first to discover America. He was written into our school history books, and he still retains this credit. I don’t want to wipe away the history of his important armada. What I want is for the history books to write the truth, and not leave out the fact that America had a population of indigenous tribes of people who lived here before Columbus. These indigenous people were invaded upon by the richer and more powerful Europeans, and the European goal was often to wipe out the poorer natives whom they often viewed with unjustified distain because they were different.

Indigenous and native plants come under attack by invasive plants, and this is a whole different story since plants do not scheme and connive like people. The movement of people often brings about the movement of plants. People bring plants with them for physical and emotional sustenance. Wind and birds also play a part in the movement of plants. Survival of the fittest is really at play here since plants do not value or trade in money and power. They merely follow the laws of survival written into their code. Of course we cannot forget, that people do trade in plants for money.

Conservation of indigenous people and plants is often a sad afterthought. We need to change this in our society. There exists precedent within our laws which carries great weight within our courts, and yet in the natural world of living and exploring, people often toss out the precedent of land claims held by prior generations of people, animals, and plants. History is not just about what is written down by the conquerors.

We need to value the conservation of diversity.

Changing Seasons

Through my kitchen window the Dwarf Papyrus, growing in a large pot and glowing with the warmth of the late afternoon sun, catches my attention.

It is a grass-like reed plant native to Africa. The giant ancestors of this hybrid Dwarf Papyrus were used to make the first writing paper in ancient Egypt.

The one catching my attention now looks so glorious as summer ends. It will not survive our winter here in Virginia. It would have to be brought inside to stay alive. I am not a year-round gardener, so this Papyrus life will end.

In my garden behind this Dwarf Papyrus grows the white Beautyberry bush. The long arching delicate limbs drape downward, carrying the weight of all its berries.

It will survive the winter in Virginia. Throughout the fall and winter the berries will slowly disappear as the cardinal couple that lives nearby will perch precariously as they try hard to balance their bodies long enough to snatch the berries.

Come spring the barren limbs should be pruned. New fresh growth will slowly emerge. A new season full of promise will begin.

Katharsis

They filled her head with snakes and likened her to the gorgon Medusa from Greek mythology. They boldly attacked her by invading her mind and setting up sentries to monitor her thoughts.

They felt certain they could drive her mind to rave and roil in waves of a poisoned broth. Bystanders turned their backs on her in a deafening silence. When she walked by they would cast their eyes down, not wanting to admit their compliance with her enemy’s deceit.

She struggled with sleepless nights, and tears of shame and doubt and self-loathing. When she succumbed to sleep the dark matter ghosts rode her brain waves searching for the beast within her, and searching for her deepest fears. All her inhibitions fell away until she was left naked and abandoned in a desert heat.

Slowly self-survival awoke within her. She began to see the mind games for what they were. She began to understand that there was an unstoppable spirit within her, and she began to listen intently to its unspoken words. Her confidence in her inner voice strengthened as she began to cast out her doubts and fears, and these invading demons. Her self-worth began to grow as she felt her personal power grow.

She realized that she alone, by sheer will, could pull her mind to higher ground away from the chaos caused by all the disparaging remarks and callous actions of those around her. She set herself free from all the negative chain reactions.

Her spirit was renewed within herself as she grabbed hold of these invading snakes and cast them out. They all began to fall away and wither. Peace and Purity are now her guardians.

Late Summer Garden Update

This morning the air had a little nip in it. A light jacket was needed for comfort. The cooler days of fall are just around the corner.

The zucchini that was taking over one of the new raised garden beds is gone. I ripped it out last evening. The red swan snap beans and French nickel filet green beans were being crowded out and over shadowed. The zucchini was planted there on a whim. I have learned a lesson.

Several different types of beans was my goal from the start. This goal was the inspiration for having two raised beds built this summer. The second raised bed houses three other types of beans: two waxed yellow and one green Roma. This is my first bean experiment. The long beans forming from the flowers demonstrates the beauty of life on a small and simple scale.

Vegetables have never been a part of my garden until this summer. My garden’s past has been filled with flowers, shrubs, and a pond for growing water lilies and other aquatic plants. Many have survived the years and are still here.

A very old lilac shrub had been allowed to grow beyond my control. It was finally sacrificed for the new raised beds. The spot is sunny which the beans require.

I have not yet photographed the beans. I will do this when they are ready to harvest.

I have not given up on growing zucchini. It will need its own separate larger space away from the beans. This morning I was already thinking about next summer and where I might be able to grow more vegetables.

In the meantime, the blue mist shrub and the goldenrod, are providing some late summer color.

Lingering Thoughts…

My roller coaster of mental impulses continues to flatten. As each day passes I am becoming more convinced that an outside agent had been working upon me.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I have been able to regain control of my mind, though residual habits are the hardest things to break and leave behind.

My mind’s way of thinking has been forever changed. The madness has left its mark, its scar, written in the recesses of my memory.

I have made it through the fire and fear. My resolve and my will have risen from the ruin and taken charge once again.

Now I feel calmly sane. Rational thoughts are over-riding a few remnant strains of crazy.

Recently I was reading a *book of fiction* about virus vectors that can change our DNA. This idea has latched onto my nagging feeling that my mental instability was caused by another person’s intent to harm me.

I know this is illogical and a possible motive is hard to fathom. I will not pursue these thoughts, even though they linger.

The *book of fiction* was INFERNO written by Dan Brown.

Genuine Four Leaf Clover

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The clover you see above was identified by the U.S. Department of Agriculture as a White Dutch Clover.

It is different from a Shamrock. Shamrocks only have three leaves.

The fourth leaf of this white Dutch Clover is believed to make it a symbol of luck.

Long ago this one was placed on card stock, pressed securely under glass, and placed in a wooden frame.

I have had this little framed four leaf clover on a corner of my vanity for a long time.

The sun from the bathroom window has sadly faded the vibrant green it used to show.

Today I looked at it with new eyes and decided that I really should put it away.

I kept it there for so long because it was from my mother-in-law. I also liked the idea that it was a symbol of luck.

Today I am old enough to know that this is a foolish romantic thought. I’m superstitous enough to not throw it away, and this too is foolish.

In the wild they live and die and feed the soil for new generations. No luck is lost.

Trojan Dust

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If you look into a shaft of sunlight streaming

through a window,

you can see the dust floating and

hanging with the gaseous air.

They dance together in the sun.

With imagination you can hear their song.

In windless rooms the dust will settle.

If left alone, it will accumulate.

No surfaces will be spared.

Feather dusters, microfiber wipes, or any old rag

can be used to clear it away. This works

temporarily.

Dust is a formidable force.

It never stops. It comes back again and again.

No dust is ever lost.

Are we dust personified? Are we Trojan dust?

The Squirrels Have Returned

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The other day before the storm I was looking out the bay window in our home.

I saw a baby squirrel scampering down one of the old cherry tree branches.

It reached the end of the limb, and looked up and saw me looking at it.

It scurried back to safety.

Today I saw three young squirrel friends running and jumping through the three red cedar trees along the fence.

It looked like they were playing follow the leader, or maybe, chase the leader.

I have not seen a squirrel nest among our treetops, though some nights I think I hear them in our attic.

I put my husband on their case. I did not hear them last night.

A Creative Life

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Most of us want beauty in our lives.

The form this beauty takes varies from one extreme to another.

All our different definitions of beauty could fill an expanse wider than we could see with our naked eyes, and possibly our imagination.

Everything boils down to our own personal point of view, and our willingness to open our hearts.

Some views will be followed by a majority, and votes can always be bought, though this is not always the case.

Other views will have a small following, and this usually means a low budget, or no connections.

And some will be willfully shunned. And some cannot be seen by the human eye, which means little in the big picture.

Fortunately, beauty does not require an audience. It can exist outside of opinions.

Fantasy Versus Reality

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As I listen to Nora Jones, Come Away with Me album, I am wondering where we could go.

I have been looking at old pictures of my garden over the years, and then looking out my kitchen window at the reality of my garden today. They are not the same by a long stretch.

I used to spend hour after hour out there lost in the heat and sweat, trying to create my fantasy garden. Back then I came very close to my ideal.

Today I cannot seem to resuscitate my old passion for gardening. I still love gardens, and I still love looking at fantasy gardens, I just don’t want to do it all by myself anymore. It was a lonely pursuit, and to tell you the truth, I was running away from my real life.

Yesterday, I finally went outside to do my first real garden work this season. This time I dragged my husband out there to help me. We pruned the laurel hedge that wraps around one side of our deck.

The pond today needs a lot of work to recreate the scene you see above. I am not sure I have it in me anymore. More importantly, I am not sure I care anymore. My care is needed inside these days. My priorities have shifted.

The people in my life need my time and attention now.

The fantasy garden that my soul needed back then held my hand and guided me through the hard times. Miraculously, after years of depression, and then mourning the death of my parents, I have come through it all, and I am now emotionally stronger than I have ever been.

My faith helps to hold me up. When I speak of faith, not only am I speaking about faith in an all powerful creator, but also a faith in myself to be able to connect with the gifts God has given me. I will continue to listen to his guidance. I will also continue to work with the reality in front of me.

If there is anyone out there reading this, I hope my story will encourage you to keep your faith in your ability to get through any hard times that your future might hold.