Life finds a way

As possibly the only person on the planet who has grown grass on the floor of a Corvette, I shouldn’t be surprised when life emerges in improbable places.  Like a dry, dusty stall floor with no sunlight or water. corndogstick 022

These weeds will get water now (at least until they’re noticed and eaten by the creatures that share their space). I admire their spunk and defiance and am happy to help out with their resistance against circumstances that would wilt lesser plants.

The woods in New England are full of things that shouldn’t be alive, starting with every single tree.  Each spring, when the snow melts, I’m awed by the fragile pine seedlings that still stand resolutely, even after being buried by a couple of feet of snow for a month or more.  New England winters can break people, but trees are made of stronger stuff, it seems.

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When I walk the dog in the woods, I look for young trees that have been trapped at odd angles when other trees fell on them; often you can pull them free so they can grow tall and straight.

I get no appreciation for this; in fact, for every tree I “rescue,” there’s another one ready to point out that they can manage just fine on their own, thank you very much.

Even trees that get clobbered by other trees when a Nor’easter blows through find a way to endure and thrive without my help.  Like this one, flattened, but growing beautifully on its side; horizontal but still green: cubbook 033

And this one, my favorite: an impressive young pine that somehow managed to grow its trunk into a loop a roller coaster might envy. Nevertheless, it persisted, you might say.cubbook 042

I still straighten bent saplings when I can, but it’s only for the rush of endorphins the act gives me, the so-called “helper’s high” —  not that they need me to live. Although that grass in the stall is looking kind of thirsty.

And, speaking of stalls, if you missed it on Facebook, here’s a fun video featuring Jo-Jo and Foggy. The tune is “War is a Science,” one of my favorites from the musical “Pippin”; the young men (one is my youngest son) made it for a school project in which they explain the ins-and-outs of agriculture in America. (Posting it here is not an endorsement of their political views.)

No animals were harmed in the filming. Funeral services for the pitchfork, alas, are forthcoming. Memorials may be sent to your local Tractor Supply.

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