It’s not that nature answers all questions and problems, though it seems she does. It’s that she disposes of those not really worth asking or solving, and returns us, at least for a time, to a state of harmony with our most basic needs, and an understanding of how we’re connected to each other and all things. If you live in a city, even a single flower or plant near your window has this power; the sky, a cloud, a bird.
Ready for a walk. A heavy mist, jewels wearing clover leaves.
The man who lives at the top of the hill, nearing eighty-seven, has another pile of wood in his driveway to split by hand.
Near the neighborhood pool, where once was a pond fed by a spring one street north from where we live, a heavily tatooed man with a shaved head told me about his recently replaced sidewalk and driveway. “Don’t hire him,” he said. “It took a month to do what should have taken a week, and we had to do a lot of the job ourselves.”
Read the seventh chapter of Middlemarch.
September 4, 2023.
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[ 1857 ]
Categories: If It Had A Name
Tags: Birds, Chance Meetings, Clouds, Clover, Flowers, George Eliot, Jewels, Journals, Leaves, Middlemarch, Mist, Nature, Problems, Questions, Sky, The Can Guy, Walking, Wants and Needs, Windows
William Michaelian 