The return of faith

One of the things I struggle with is how to weave a group of disparate thoughts into a coherent post. Sometimes I don't try and just save some of the stories for another time. Often, that time does not come. So today, I am going to try for the comb-over weave and see if I can have you join me in pretending this thing flows.

A long walk in the warm gentle rain woke me up and put me right. Those walks before breakfast are both hard and enriching. The fatigue in my leg muscles starts right at the first small hill at the end of the driveway. It is here I remind myself that I need to eat something so my muscles have fuel, but some mornings I don't want to wait for the egg and toast and neither does Scout.

Worms. Worms live in dirt. They are both the instrument for healthy soil and the sign of it. They are every gardener's friend, whether you have a 18 x 18 foot yard or 18 acres. And while these wiggly guys live in the dirt, they still need oxygen to live. Weird, right? There is enough oxygen in the soil for them, that is until it rains. Then the water, which is only part oxygen and not in a form they can use, displaces the oxygen they "breath" which is why you see worms above ground when it has been raining.

On today's walk there were worms everywhere. I don't mean like 15 or so, I mean I finally stopped counting and started extrapolating. We walked for 30 minutes and I passed over 1,000 worms and 5 slugs of varying style and color. It got so that I had to look down to avoid crushing entire communities. I worried about them drowning, being run over by a car, being crushed by deer hooves and dog paws. Then I stopped worrying so much because there are not many cars out here and really, I can't spend 30 minutes of this day in fear for the lives of worms. But I did wish them safe passage.

The worms, who are mostly safe from tires, reminded me that I am living in the country. The country is the habitat of a mix of creatures. Our human brains make us the rulers, but our numbers and our drive to control are measured enough that we do not dominate. Cities, like Oakland for example, are the habitats of humans. Of course, we have a huge population of domesticated animals, but we can easily go days without encountering something not wearing clothes or a collar or both.

We have birds, but we have to draw them to us to spend time with them. And on those rare moments when we do see other animals, we likely refer to them as vermin. We don't coo and smile at the rats and skunks and racoons, we flash our porch lights and hope to drive them away. We build better bird feeders so the squirrels can't eat the bird bait. And when any of these interlopers refuse to leave our habitat, we kill them. Take that you unwelcome beast.

I guess what I am saying is I like dim sum, incredible carnitas tacos, mortadella that makes me swoon and avocados with tahitian pomellos. I just like living in the country more.

And finally, it is passeaster right about now. A time of faith and saving of souls. These are not my holidays, but I appreciate some of the messages. At this time each year, I like to remind myself that faith can be lost and it can be reborn again. We just need to indicate we are willing. So here is to Spring and the birth of another cycle of life.

PS. Necessity is, in fact, the mother of invention.