Late February

I brought home two batches of wild flower seeds to plant. Several thousand are a mix of Texas and Oklahoma flowers, plus a thousand bluebonnet seeds. They have all been soaked, had the cold treatment in the refrigerator and are ready to be planted. When I was home last weekend, Billy rototilled a wide swath across the backyard where the briars, burrs and clumps of thick weeds were too tenacious for my dandelion digger. He tilled out another small planting section in the front along the driveway.

I still have to get out with a spade to remove the thickest weed clumps, throw on some rotted manure and rake the ground as smooth as possible. Then I carefully mix the seeds with handfuls of sandy soil and toss them out on the bare ground. I am definitely hoping for rain, for I have them just at the peak of perfection for planting. At least ninety percent of them already have a tiny white sprout of root emerging that promises the drama of nature will soon be unfolding itself in an incredible array of shapes and colors.

In Spain they say to live a complete life, one must plant a tree, have a son and write a book. I am blessed to have completed all of these before I was fifty. However, I will have to add one item to the list: one must plant at least 2,000 wildflower seeds. Of course, if one is in Texas, it must include bluebonnets.

However, planting several thousand flower seeds wears one to a frazzle, especially since I had to prepare the soil. Obviously, the fact that I have not been doing any physical exercise lately doesn't help. The first day, although I somehow muster the energy to plant the whole back area, I am truly fatigued. It's so different to feel physically tired instead of mentally exhausted. When one is mentally wasted there is a lot of static that makes rest, or even relaxation, difficult. Physical fatigue can bring on some good sleep, but I may have gone over the limit today.

As I sit on the sofa in the subdued light of two candles burning on the mantle, I explore to discover exactly what I am feeling that I label as "tired." I trace the heavy energy as it sags and dips deep into the center of my bones, only to disappear. I feel a million aches and pains and pings, until suddenly a wave of peace flows over me and I am at rest. Then the energy somehow gathers itself again and rolls over me to mash out the deep pain. I feel I have to hold my breath as when I am about to descend the highest hill of a roller coaster ride. Is this today's pain, or yesterday's pain-or the holding of my breath, so I wouldn't feel pain? Splintery needles gouge my shoulder blades, then run down my spine. They thrash at me until finally my head falls forward in a relaxed surrender. I slowly die to each and every ache as the physical exhaustion brings on deep sleep.

I have to admit that I am intrinsically neurotic when it comes to flower seeds. After taking the greatest of care in planting them, I assume personal responsibility for seeing that each and every one gets enough water. For me there is no greater joy than seeing the little green leaves emerge from their warm earthy womb. Watching this miracle of nature always amazes me. If I were to show a round hard seed to someone from Mars and tell them it is going to turn into lovely stalks of fragrant pink delphiniums, or golden marigolds, or purple phlox, they would think I am nuts. Yet we constantly take this miracle for granted. I am delighted to be a participant in the process, to be able to handle these seeds and to care for them until they are up and growing-then it's all up to them.

In spite of the physical activity and preoccupation with the wonders of the seed-world miracles, my brain keeps feeling like a big tight bundle. When I was in Houston, it was constantly flying and shattering, urging me to catch the frayed ends to braid them back into a coherent design. But now the ends are bound up, all tight and dull. Having lived and observed life in the body, I know that the only thing for me to do is let my brain go through its experience of being a bundle. Either it is going through some process that it will finally complete, or it is just balking at life. In either case, "this too will pass."

I do have some peaceful moments though. As I'm working in the garden, I watch the butterflies flutter through the wildflowers, mostly bitterweed with its bright yellow flowers and Indian paint brush with bright orange flowers, as well as a few brilliant fuchsia phlox. I can find only one bluebonnet in bloom. The vibrant blue just fascinates me; I'm having sky at my feet. I kneel down right beside it and thank it for being so lovely and adorning my world.

One afternoon I am sitting out on the deck, eating an egg salad sandwich with a cup of hot tea. Mostly, I am admiring the tiny sprouts of Nature's handiwork that are surrounding me in every direction. Of course, I helped Nature along since I sowed the seeds. Well, I am a part of Nature too. When I am planting seeds, I am playing both the cause and effect in Nature.

As I am sitting there, suddenly I feel a thud on my head. When I reach up to retrieve the culprit, I find it's a little cricket. I invite it in to stay the night in a tiny bamboo cricket cage, which I picked up at a flea market. I'm hoping that he will tune up and play a little melody for me. But he doesn't seem particularly happy about his new room; he doesn't sound a single note. During the night, an incredible storm blows in. I am awakened after midnight by flashes of lightning on three sides of the house. As I watch, the sprinkling rain quickly thickens into a serious downpour. As for the cricket, I tell him that he is lucky to be inside for the night. But he only feels happy when I take him out of the cage to release him first thing in the morning.

I am elated that my wildflowers are all getting watered so well. A matter of Nature taking care of Nature, not only giving drinks to the animals, trees, plants and my flower seedlings, but also giving rest to my creaky body. I'm thankful I won't have to move soaker hoses around today.

Although I do have some lucid moments in my big beautiful world, my mind continues to feel like a knotty tangle and has not settled down enough for me to start writing. I'm sure my involvement in the gardening projects here has not helped. As I mentioned to my friend Diana, when it comes to gardening, I can be as big a workaholic as any corporate exec. She countered that in any event I am living a perfect life for me, doing exactly what I want to be doing. Isn't that incredible? Doing what one likes to do, day after day.