Harvest or drought?
I don’t know what has possessed me but I can’t stop yanking, can’t stop pulling, sweet twist of the wrist felling clump after clump of well-entrenched weed. I even dream it, this swirling motion, this victory, this steady conquering. I have never been a gardener but this year I can’t help myself, I seek it out and I can’t let go, I can’t stop, not even after the sun has long set and the spoils of my war are nothing but shadows hulking on the berm. My kids call my name but their sound waves roll past my set shoulders, ricocheting off my trowel, reverberating among the pines, I sink deeper and deeper in.
It’s a lovely transition, heading out here to my garden, a desperate attempt to pull the weeds in my head, to rake the rocks from my foundation, to find some quiet, to make everything okay. I stand here at the sink scrubbing grit from my nails and I realize, this is perhaps the first way I’ve found to leap between these 26 black-and-white keys to the dock of Mother, to yank myself from the viscous mud of my computer screen and land in the sweet harvest of my kitchen, of my hearth, of my home. These days are so heady but such a drought on my soul, though they feed, though they sow, though they grow my bank account and its tiny baby dream sprouts. Don’t get me wrong, I still love this, THIS, the chase of a good story, the deadlines, the high, but I yield now, I admit, something is off. Something is off as of late and it’s a bit hollow, that which once filled my belly, this harvest, this fruit. I can’t help but ask myself, is this it? Is this what I’ve been chasing? Is this what I’ve been planting all these years? Is it enough? Am I enough?
There are no answers here in this long neglected garden, but still I seek them. I pull and I pull and I pull, long past the hour other well-meaning farmers have retired.
Neil says:
Keep on pulling those weeds! I’m assuming by your garden you mean Chicago and the grass being your faithful readers and the weeds being… Uh, wordpress plugins? Can’t wait to meet you. Seriously.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 21st, 2009 at 7:25 pm
Actually? I’m literally weeding my garden. This garden I’ve essentially neglected for eight years. I can’t stop, I keep pulling and pulling.
I know there’s a metaphor here, I just don’t even understand it myself. I’m busier with my freelancing than I’ve ever been, and I appreciate the reprieve my garden (suddenly after all these years) yields between my crazy work life and my time as Mother At Home. Then I look at all this blog stuff and I know it applies, I know what I mean, I just can’t pinpoint it. I know it’s there. A better writer than I needs to articulate it. Maybe you?
I’m so excited to meet you too, Neil. I have your number on speed dial. Nothing will mess this up.
July 21st, 2009 at 7:20 pm
Karen (Miscellaneous Mum) says:
I hope you have fun this week @ BlogHer. The gardening/writing/editing/nuturing cycle-metaphor has been played in my house too this week. I won a writing award for a poem I’m not allowed to talk about yet, and on the other hand I submitted a piece I am disappointed with to another place. Above all, I’m very tired. Thus, I’m here rambling
I wish I was going, but maybe next year.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 21st, 2009 at 7:44 pm
This comment made sense to me more than any other. I hear you. I know. xo
July 21st, 2009 at 7:43 pm
Nicole says:
Wish I was going! Have a great time and GOOD LUCK!
Even though we have all already claimed victory for VU no matter what happens, hardware is ALWAYS welcome.:-)
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 21st, 2009 at 7:48 pm
Too late for that, I’m afraid.
I’m going to that party anyway, and I still claim that victory. These contributors (you included) blow me away every day. xo
July 21st, 2009 at 7:45 pm
Deb on the Rocks says:
Order and beauty, tasks with rhythm, they’re a great practice and/or a great avoidance. Who knows?
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 21st, 2009 at 7:50 pm
Yes. Who knows and who cares? (Hope your arms are wide and ready, love.)
July 21st, 2009 at 7:48 pm
muskrat says:
I do some of that myself. Often at 10 or 11 at night, under the spotlights, that old REM song in my head about gardening at night as I pour mulch out of bags I bought at Lowe’s and yank what I assume is a weed in the barely lit spaces between flowers and bushes I want to thrive.
It’s fun and rewarding to see the next day.
Looking forward to seeing you at BlogHer…up and decided to go this morning and used some Delta miles to get me there before I could rationalize not going.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:04 am
I can tell which ones are weeds and which ones are flowers because the flowers come right up.
And I do that too now, first thing, walk outside with my coffee and survey last night’s damage. It’s awesome.
And I’m so glad you’re coming!
July 21st, 2009 at 8:02 pm
Kat says:
If I had something like that going on, it would more than likely be my attempt to have regain control over something, anything. I can’t control when creative impulses strike, or whether they will result in something good when they do, but dammit, my garden will be weed-free!
Have a blast at BlogHer. <3
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:03 am
Actually, that makes a lot of sense, the control thing. I bet that’s definitely coming into play with me right now. Hmmmm…..
July 21st, 2009 at 8:04 pm
stacy di says:
it’s so meditative…pulling weeds…especially when there’s so much going on around you…and the weather has been perfect!!
ps…I have a notepad for you if I see you at BlogHer
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:02 am
oooh ooooh oooooh! Which one?? I’M SO EXCITED!
July 21st, 2009 at 8:05 pm
quin browne says:
metaphor or not… nice post. (this is why i will never own a house again-the garden thing, although i could do with a little patio)
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:02 am
I’ve seen some pretty amazing apartment gardens, actually. Still, with all this space out here I feel like a jerk for never having put the time in before.
July 21st, 2009 at 8:15 pm
Mojo,NC,USA says:
Gardening and me don’t mix. I have the original brown thumb. Instead, I load my dog and my camera in the truck and go find something nobody’s thought to take a photograph of before. Or maybe just an angle nobody’s used before. Or maybe I skip the truck part and just find it in the garage. And I don’t have to explain to anyone why I took a picture of the pressure gauge on the air compressor. or a stick of nail gun ammo. Or that odd looking mushroom growing out of the stump from the oak tree that was cut down in 2002.
I just do it. And nobody but me has to understand why.
I get it… I think. Or maybe I don’t. What’s important is that you do.
Give ‘em Hell in Chicago Dammit!
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:01 am
It sounds like much the same thing, no?
Mojo Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:26 am
Yeah, I think that’s what I was getting at. I was pretty tired when I wrote this… maybe I made sense anyway.
July 21st, 2009 at 8:23 pm
Joy @ Mommys Joy says:
There is just something so basic and cleansing about getting down and dirty with Mother Earth.
“In the spring time, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”
Quote by Margaret Atwood:
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:01 am
I love that.
July 21st, 2009 at 8:34 pm
Fran says:
I’m jealous of pending-Chicago but I can tell you straight up…I disappear into the weeding. It’s a not-of-this-world experience that becomes heady in its repetitive nature and sense of accomplishment even if the job is never done. I can be a drone and yet feel like the master of one square foot at a time.
Have fun at Blog-her. Wish I could be there in person instead of just in spirit.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:00 am
I wish you could too, Fran. Very much.
July 21st, 2009 at 8:53 pm
flutter says:
I am so certain that you will always harvest great things.
Have fun in Chicago. Without me. That’s just fine! ;p
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 6:00 am
‘salright, I’d rather you spent your money on the plane ticket to destinations slightly further north.
July 21st, 2009 at 10:13 pm
Liz says:
I’m new to your blog — found you from someone else’s blogroll and now I can’t even remember whose. And it’s so funny that you should post this today, because earlier I was reading archived posts, getting a feel for your blog, and I realized that you’re only 4 years older than me. And I found myself thinking, as I have often these days, that my life is kind of small. Intense and busy, but in the pursuit of one goal, and then another, I’ve missed some milestones. I’m assuming they’re still out there for me, that I’m taking things in a different order. But occasionally I look at other women my age and realize that I find it hard to think of myself as an adult the same way they are. That you should be wondering about the fruit of what you’ve sown, too, reminds me that such comparison are, well, fruitless. And I should cut myself some slack. And, maybe, so should you?
Anyway, you’re writing is so beautiful and I’m happy to have found this blog. Thanks for what you do.
Liz
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:59 am
Aw, man, Liz, that’s kind of the story of my life – the need to cut myself some slack. Hopefully you figure it out before I do. Glad you’re here.
July 21st, 2009 at 10:21 pm
Heather says:
Cleaning and organizing give the mind a chance to sort itself out. While you are putting order to the garden, your brain is doing something similar. It’s that feeling that you have when you go on auto pilot and your thoughts feel blank, inside your circuits are rewiring.
It is good for you and probably a physical manifestation of reducing random stress. I clean and garden before a complicated project. It puts me in the correct frame of mind.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:58 am
It makes so much sense, I’ve just never really done it before. Or maybe I did it with something else? Maybe I never needed it this badly before.
July 21st, 2009 at 11:16 pm
AnnetteK says:
Gardening metaphors always speak to me. I love this.
Don’t hide in Chicago – I sooo want to meet you. xo
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:57 am
I won’t hide. (I won’t hide I won’t hide I won’t hide. It’s my mantra lately.)
And the feeling is mutual.
July 22nd, 2009 at 4:51 am
Gwen says:
When you started with the weeding, I wondered how that metaphor was going to work out. Because a cigar can never just be a cigar, can it? But you may have given me some insight into why my husband spends all weekend in our garden. Me, I’m just looking for meaning in the bottom of my martini glass. (Just kidding.)
BlogHer 09! I will see you there, m’dear. (Maybe. If I’m lucky. I mean, if *you’re* lucky.
)
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:57 am
I alternate between the glass and the dirt. Sometimes I juggle both at once.
I can’t believe we finally get to meet. We could have had our own little BlogHer a hundred times by now, no? I’ll try not to tackle you.
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:36 am
mamatulip says:
When the workers arrived on Monday morning, their digger in tow, they asked if there were any plants that we wanted to save. Aside from a small spruce-like tree and a few hastas, we kissed the rest of the greenery goodbye. And in one fell swoop, the digger’s lone arm tore out all of the shrubs and bushes that have littered my front lawn for the past two years.
It was AWESOME. I hate gardening; I have two Black Thumbs of Death, and to see a machine yanking out these bushes made me smile. Diggers make great gardeners (but the treads are demolishing my lawn. SIGH).
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:39 am
mamatulip says:
I just realized that this post is about gardening, but it’s NOT about gardening.
Which is precisely why it’s a good thing I’m not going to BlogHer.
I’m an idiot.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:55 am
Actually, it was just as much about gardening as any fancy metaphor. I really am out there each night and it’s strange, I’ve never been this way before. It gets me out of my head. I was out there last night in the pouring rain and I worked until it was too dark to see (no street lights out here) and I ran inside soaking wet and filthy and sat down to write this post. So, you see? Not an idiot. (And I’m so sad I don’t get to meet you.)
July 22nd, 2009 at 5:40 am
sizzle says:
This comment has nothing to do with gardening.
I hope I get to accost you with a hug this weekend.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 23rd, 2009 at 6:54 am
You’d better, babe.
July 22nd, 2009 at 8:12 am
Postmarc says:
The therapeutic value of gardening (OK, weeding too) is vastly underrated. Or for that matter, so is the value of any enjoyable hobby that you do where sometimes you look up after doing it and realize time has slipped by and you have been transported to a whole different problem-solving world in your head. Yank away, dammit!
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 23rd, 2009 at 6:55 am
And here I thought I already knew all the different kinds of therapy.
July 22nd, 2009 at 8:44 am
Sarah says:
I am happiest and calmest when my hands are filthy with the earth of my garden. I’m a novice gardener but it is so soothing to weed and care for another living thing (that doesn’t have a runny nose and whiny voice ~laugh~).
I find that when I have a cluttered chaotic mind I am drawn towards making my surroundings clean and less chaotic.
Enjoy your weeding.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 23rd, 2009 at 6:56 am
That makes sense to me. I don’t even know if I’m good enough to qualify as a novice yet. Working on it.
July 22nd, 2009 at 9:38 am
Christina says:
You have such a way with words.
I had a similar experience but with a redecorating project. There was nothing more I wanted to do but be in that room painting, touching up, taping. I was in bliss.
My theory is that it became that place without words. That right brain, out-of-time, be-the-ball place.
I think it’s the place that the words grow from.
Maybe not.
Maybe we need a vacation even from our closest friends.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 23rd, 2009 at 6:56 am
I think you’re right, the place without words. I call it “getting out of my head.” Sometimes I need to be yanked weed-like from my own self.
July 22nd, 2009 at 9:54 am
blues says:
I guess maybe we all ask ourselves, “is this all there is?” or “is this enough?”. But when someone that you think is amazing does it you just feel baffled that they feel that way, but then you remember nobody sees themselves from the outside. Are you enough, Maggie? Are you kidding me? I love you.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 23rd, 2009 at 6:57 am
Oh, honey. Thank you for this. I love you too.
July 22nd, 2009 at 1:12 pm
Sunny says:
I hope some year I’ll be worthy of BlogHer. I hope you enjoy yourself and meet lots of wonderful people *hug*
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 23rd, 2009 at 6:58 am
“Worthy??” I’ll tell you what, I’d better not meet anyone this weekend who believes they are there because they are “worthy.” Sounds pretty ridiculous to me.
July 22nd, 2009 at 8:40 pm
starrlife says:
Order out of chaos. I love pulling weeds- an easy problem to solve after dealing with unsolveable ones all day- sigh. I often feel like I’ve plateaued in my professional work- it usually just means I’m resting up for the next growth spurt and I need to just clean my desk and file cabinet orrr… weed the garden! Someday I’ll go to BlogHer or something else and meet you- have a great time.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 27th, 2009 at 2:11 pm
I think that’s just it, the easy problem to solve amidst the unsolvable ones. Thank you for that.
July 23rd, 2009 at 6:15 pm
Tracee says:
I have got some weeds! I am not much of an acutal gardener, but damn the weeds of my soul.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 27th, 2009 at 2:10 pm
I hear you.
July 25th, 2009 at 9:08 am
racheld says:
My well-meaning farmer leanings are expressed in the pulling, as well. We returned from breakfast last week, and I strolled out to have a look at the herb garden. The lawn-mowing men were coming in the afternoon, and I hoped that they might make mowed-sense of the tangleknot that the round herb beds have become.
So I reached, and grasped a handful of tall-grown stuff beside a basil plant. The satisfying CRUTTTTTSH of the unearthing, roots and dirt, of the handful from the night-rained earth was a moment of revelation, somehow. It came loose, dropping clots of black dirt, and with it, its root-bed future. I was off on a chase of grab-and-toss, littering the edge of the fenceline with piles and piles of weeds-to-wilt, and hearing my creaky old knees protest the bending.
I did not cover the entire garden, (a metaphor itself, maybe) but I did make great bare circles of dark earth around each plant. And when the mowers arrived, I went with them to the garden, holding back each herb-limb from harm, and we three danced there, in a dip and sway and lunge ballet, to the tempo of those great gnawing machines, til they’d made the loveliest little manicured lawn, punctuated by the now-recognizable herbs, their fragrances loosed to the air by hand and step as we worked.
Nothing to do with writing, at all, except that everything is fodder, everything is grist. Another farm metaphor; sorry, I get in a rut, and right now it’s GREEN stuff.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 27th, 2009 at 2:10 pm
You got that CRUTTTTTSH down perfectly.
July 26th, 2009 at 8:08 am
David Levine says:
I loved this post. Weeding! Soil under the fingernails. Thoughts in the gardens.
High summer has finally arrived here after so much rain, so much rain. The weeds have flourished amazingly this year, but with all the rain most of the soil we tilled in the spring has remained supple, thus yielding the weeds more willingly to the gently pulling hands, left and right. The trick is to pull slowly but firmly, increasing the pull gradually so as not to snap the trunk and leave the roots to sprout anew even more aggressively. Some weeds, forget it! You can pull that dandelion 7 times before winter sets in and it will be back next spring no matter how much of the root you think you got.
After getting home from a workday of computer this computer that, 15 to 30 minutes of weeding clears my head. About one second for each weed to be sighted in, grabbed, pulled until both hands are full. It’s meditative, murdering these baby plants and placing their corpses into a small pile, which then gets carried to a larger pile. There is no end to them, even after genocide. But as the corn tassels and squash vines really start to run, the weeding will slow down. But this year has been a so very weedy.
maggie, dammit Reply:
July 30th, 2009 at 10:47 am
Meditative is the perfect word. I think I’m going to give myself permission to be a little more reverent about it from here on out.
July 29th, 2009 at 7:04 pm
Life with Kaishon says:
I wish you could come pull my weeds. Just thinking about pulling them gives me a headache!
August 2nd, 2009 at 9:06 pm