Trapping a Groundhog

A groundhog has conveniently dug a hole near my sorrel. Well, it's no longer "my" sorrel. It's gone. Nibbled right down to the ground.

Often when i happen to look out the kitchen window, i see the groundhog standing right next to the hav-a-heart trap sitting right beside her hole. I see her going in and out of her home, carrying nesting material in. I think she's using last year's bee balm, which must be very fragrant.

Since i don't have cantaloupe or watermelon, which the Hav-a-Heart website recommends for groundhogs, i've been trying apple pieces, bananas, and green beans. No luck yet.

Sometimes our troublesome states of mind are equally elusive. One friend is giving me the cold shoulder. I don't know exactly why, but i can guess. I hate the feeling of being shunned. "Don't contact me," she texted me.

The next morning in meditation, i realized that "Don't contact me" is one way of saying "Don't touch me," and in these times of virus, not-touching makes a lot of sense. Okay, i sighed to myself, I won't touch you with texts or emails or even letters of apology or asking for forgiveness. I understand that she doesn't feel safe with me.

But why do i continue having a hard time letting go of this story?

I just can't trap that groundhog yet.

Blue Orchid

My neighbor and i went to the Temple Forest Monastery yesterday morning.

Since monastics are not allowed to cook for themselves, they rely on the generosity of the community to provide the meals. 5 kitchen volunteers cooked up sufficient food for 25 people. On the table were Thai curries and dragonfruit.

The monastics ate first; then it was time for the lay people to walk around the buffet table.

The 11 monks are on their annual 3-month retreat. Nevertheless, we had a sweet conversation with Ajahn Chaganando after lunch. My neighbor took a bag of apples as her offering; i took a bag full of various tick repellents. The monks live in tiny cabins out in the New England forest, which is rife with deer ticks.

I admired the orchids on the altar, and couldn't take my eyes off the blue and purple orchid.

Generosity goes round and round. I give; they give; you give.

Thank you dear reader.

Thanksgiving Prayer

Max Coots’ Thanksgiving Prayer

Let us give thanks for a bounty of people:

For children who are our second planting, and though they grow like weeds and the wind too soon blows them away, may they forgive us our cultivation and fondly remember where their roots are….

For generous friends with hearts and smiles as bright as their blossoms;

For feisty friends as tart as apples;

For continuous friends, who, like scallions and cucumbers, keep reminding us that we’ve had them;

For crotchety friends, as sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;

For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and as elegant as a row of corn, and the others, plain as potatoes and as good for you;

For funny friends, who are as silly as Brussels sprouts and as amusing as Jerusalem artichokes, and serious friends, as complex as cauliflowers and as intricate as onions;

For friends as unpretentious as cabbages, as subtle as summer squash, as persistent as parsley, as delightful as dill, as endless as zucchini, and who, like parsnips, can be counted on to see you through the winter;

For old friends, nodding like sunflowers in the evening-time, and young friends coming on as fast as radishes;

For loving friends, who wind around us like tendrils and hold us, despite our blights, wilts and witherings;

And finally, for those friends now gone, like gardens past that have been harvested, and who fed us in their times that we might have life thereafter;

For all these we give thanks.

Dynamite Cranberry Relish

I made a delicious cranberry relish for Thanksgiving dinner. So easy! This from a person who has avoided cranberry sauce for decades.

I chopped up (via the food processor) 1 apple, 1 clementine with peel, and 2 cups of cranberries. I added a couple of tablespoons of maple syrup, but you can use your favorite sweetener.

Dynamite!

How many things do we feel rather lukewarm about until we actually try them?

My friends tell me they could never meditate, never be silent, never go on retreat, never have a quiet mind.

You don't know until you try it.

Late Harvest

photo from www.quickcrop.ie

We are leaving for vacation tomorrow, which means giving all the vegetables in the refrigerator away. Finding a home for the red peppers was easy. I sun-dried one rack of Sungold cherry tomatoes. I decided to keep my 6 red cabbage, ranging in size from small to smallest.

In order not to have any leftovers, i cooked up the smallest cabbage tonight with some homegrown onions and the only remaining apple. Delicious.

When it comes to the end of our own season, we will be harvesting the mind we've been training all these years. The untrained mind may be unpredictable. The trained mind, the mind accustomed to mindfulness, has a much better chance of viewing the ending of the season of the life more calmly.

The seasons change.

Permaculture

Tamarind pods

While i was in Florida last week, i visited my friend Annette, who has a tiny permaculture farm. In her backyard, she is growing mangoes, avocados, lychees, grapefruit, lemon, key lime, and tamarind. Permaculture is sustainable agriculture, and we can all do this in our own backyard, our front yard, and our gardens.

Here in the North Country, i don't have the mouth-watering selection of tropical fruits that Annette has. I have two old apple trees in my backyard, which a pruner has encouraged into production. I canned a couple of gallons of applesauce last fall.

To live sustainably on our little plot of ground is to live simply. We use what Mother Nature provides. I think of a line from the Metta sutta: "contented and easily satisfied."

Can i be content with my gnarly apples? Can i be easily satisfied with second best?

Annette gave me 3 tamarind pods. When they ripen, i'll be satisfied with that sweet-sour taste of tamarind.