SOL21 Slice 11: The butterfly bush

 

I am participating in the

 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL21).  

All participants are sharing stories about moments in their lives, writing 

 every day for the month of March 2021.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

It was as if the butterfly bush was begging me to prune it, 

almost screeching its needs, 

with its wild branches blowing this way and that, 

smacking up against the side of the porch, 

dropping worn, old, brown plant crumbs all over the porch furniture, 

entangling with the ornamental grass (you're next on the chopping block, buddy!), and 

basically picking a fight with the shrub on its other side. 

(Hmm, what's the name of that shrub? I don't know . . . .) 

I was also screeching inside, 

silently simmering, 

overcome with frustration from several small glitches in my day 

that seemed to be changing my mood,

moving me into anxious and hurt - 

a frustrating email (did you have to use that tone?), 

an annoying zoom session (why wasn't I told this a month ago?), and 

a text that made it loud and clear, my preceding texts were never read

just glossed over,

basically ignored. 

I should have just texted the butterfly bush. 

I put on my gardening gloves.

I got out the hedge clippers and the small pruning shears. 

I dragged a large empty yard recycling barrel into position. 

I started chopping, thinning, cutting, breaking, splitting, trimming, clipping, shaping, pruning, imagining.

I found each long leggy limb,

growing in at least three additional directions,

requiring my entire focus, and soon

filling, swelling, overflowing the barrel,

requiring me to slow down and

push, squeeze, weave the trimmed branches into gaps,

tighter, tighter, tighter

making each piece fit

making space in the crush of twigs

making room where there once was none

all the while struggling against the wind,

this blustery day, 

when suddenly,

strangely,

beautifully,

I arrived in

another time and space

where I was smiling.

Who knew trimming a butterfly bush would be a catalyst for time travel?

"any wisdom that exists, exists in what we already have."

- Pema Chodron