So much suffering pervades the world, bad news
invades our mindstream. Searching for how to help
we still need ways to gain some equanimity.
My way: pack a water bottle, pen and paper
in an old cloth bag to sit on later,
set off for a slow-paced forest walk.
Wild cucumber blooms along the path
twinberry branches drape across the creek
rustling ripples soothe like an old-time melody.
Banana slugs survey with long antennae
climb up a twig along a fallen alder to a clump
of curling leaves, where they will feast.
I ramble on up the trail, survey with my ears.
Chickadees and juncos, warblers and wrens,
symphony of sweetness in the canopy.
Redwoods tower above the creek
while vines of English ivy climb their trunks,
scouts from a foreign army that could strangle them.
Pervasive ivy, spread by birds and creeping
underground, like the sorcerer’s
metastasizing brooms, springs up all around.
Unable to just sit here, I pry ivy off a trunk,
pull long roots through thick layers of duff
and stuff the bag to haul it home.
Pull, then pause to savor this soft afternoon
the shelter of recovering forest.
Fill my bag with ivy and my soul with peace.
I will wage a quiet campaign to keep the groves
intact, to let the big trees grow for centuries.
Weeding is a peaceful way to fight.
— Annette Holland
This article appears in Humbuggery in Humboldt, Part 2.
