Apparently, Slugs have palate preferences. I happen to have the opportunity to observe this detail, since my garden has become a spontaneous summer festival for rain-loving slugs, delighted to celebrate the arrival of monsoon season in Vermont.
First, on the list of foods, is lettuce.
Lettuce does not have, nor really ever has, much chance of growing in my garden. Next on the list of edibles comes Kale, with a close second of Brussels sprouts and Broccoli. Neither collards, nor mustard find their names in the competition. I watch the kale leaves turn into skeletons as the gastropods feast very carefully until every plant has hardly a stem left.
Some days, every blade of green carries several slugs. And the walkways could pass as a busy market place for the mollusks. This summer, walking becomes a twirling dance of a step-dance in avoidance of potential massacre. The vendors and customers alike are sharing the road. I leave my home slowly, looking down with every step to be sure of my footing, and that the path is clear.
Co-existance can feel trying at times.
As can finding inner balance when saturation has been reached. All these slugs emerged with the arrival of hard daily downpours in early June. Since then, the days have flowed with a continuous stream, of water falling from the sky and then rising from the earth. Water, leaf and air have joined in one continuous stream of moisture, downpour, mist and mud; and our motions make sounds like splash, squish, slurp, slip, spray.
In these conditions, I admit to feeling overwhelmed. Even though I love water, the Abundance suddenly feels hard to accept, or balance.
Ponds are lakes, pathways are streams, Streams are rivers, lawns are puddles. Gardens are swamps. The seeps are full, the paths are waterways, the grass boggy.
When I look around at what feels like a temperate rainforest, I feel amazed to believe so much water can exist and be held in one place. Yet, the Earth seems to have done just that. She seems to know how to find balance, to thrive and find outlets, containers and aquifers for this gift and ways to bless us with more gifts.
For example, from all of this rain, the lovely green abounds. The air is cleared of heavy smoke. The water finds containers, whether it is a puddle, or the roots of the majestic trees holding the blessings. The air feels clean, welcoming, warm, as well as wet. I breathe more easily.
Searching for inner balance, I pause, notice and watch ~
Puddle dwellers rejoice. Humidity loving insects and insect eating winged-friends feast. Mud loving mammals with slapping feet dance happily and noisily. The raccoon who visits my front perch, uses the water to wash ki's hands, and food. Slap, slap, slap. Slip, sip slurp are the sounds I hear through the screen door at night.
The rhythms of the animals, of the water, the day and night all find a balance among themselves. As I slow down, to notice, watch, and listen, I discover that I too am finding an inner balance as well as gratitude with the outer rhythms. Slowly, a relaxation and inner stillness emerges. Less discontent and more gratitude.
Observing this, I find, I can breathe more easily now. After pausing and suggesting that balance may be possible, I find it becomes so. I notice that I feel the warm wet air as an embrace.
I had come outside just now. In a rare break from the downpours; I sit on a towel to write more, accepting a bit of dampness in my seat. A memory emerges ~ a memory of a summer years ago, when I was about 3 1/2 feet tall, that was so very wet too. I remember loving having more home-time and fewer swimming lessons. Less pleasantly, I remember the creepers who also found their way in and into my clothing. At least the slugs have not braved entering my home now or.. Yet.
We were saturated then too, from door to door.
One morning, during this summer, the rains brought a Luna moth to take refuge on the door screen. There, presenting kiself was my first glimpse of an angel of summer. I saw a 4-inch wide glowing green angel whose large luminous translucent wings spoke mysteries to me. Awe-filled, I watched the stillness of this angel.
Like today, the weather broke that day, so I had to go off to swimming lessons, before I could watch the moth fly off. I am sure sure though, that she planted her egg successfully, in me, during her brief visit to my world.
While writing my observations, a downpour arrived and chased me, my pen and my cat inside.
I finish the post now, inside, after the skies opened up and drenched the Earth once again; I’m listening to gentle warm rain and rumbling thunder. The slowing down, listening to the rhythm of the rain, and moist earth, has helped me find the inner balance. Has helped me remember gladness for this brief visit to planet earth.
I feel glad that rain is still visiting, glad that the gifts of abundance are not finished.
When the rain is lighter, I will walk with my feet in the warm rain and damp earth, We are indeed saturated here, in Vermont. And it is saturation of blessings falling from heaven. Rain carrying drops of love and wellness
"Slow things down, we move too quick.
This life of ours, it's not too short, nor the road too far,
The road may seem long, but check the view
We change our minds, and points of view,
I'll work it out. Keep hope alive. It's all we got."
From Earth on a good day, by Vernon Spring
The path feels slippery until we slow down.
The storm feels heavy until we remember we can breathe,
keeping hope and glowing wings alive.
