Garter snakes weave in between our efforts to maintain, they soak up the sun and ensure our mindful placement of garden tools and pitchforks. The patterns upon their skin create tricks of light and colour, creating angles and edges that camouflage and protect. Utilising edges like professional permies they giggle at the boxes: though lines may be etched below their eyes, they recognise the importance of fluidity. They are a beautiful calm on the hot days, watching the water recede from bean roots and leek loves. Summer’s touch is a beautiful joy as we a thawed of our incessant desires for hibernation and comfort. A weed is simply a plant out of place, as we all sometimes step into situations we realise we are maybe unwelcome in, it makes us no less an interesting wealth of knowledge. Within every rock, every plant, every cell we can see, read a history of knowledge: of medicine, a composition so intensely complex and yet overwhelmingly sensical.
So many hearts here beat passionate with a strength of action: of doing. A nurturing compassion that grows green love from the earth and a cascade of fresh milk may pour, quickly and calmly, into the cycle. The gentle mooing of the cows can calm even the most ferocious of wolf hazes, because in their eyes we can feel the love of mother earth. Within ripped clothes and muddied smiles we can embrace the action of change and impose ourself into life. It becomes impossible to untangle permaculture from every aspect of all that is, because all that is has come from nature, and all that is becomes observed. That we are able to be aware of the goings on, is the most beautiful blessing and curse. Through observation we can fully come to acknowledge the story that has been raging for millennia before us. From the rocks below our feet we may glimpse an insight into the layered past of our ancestors, and mimic the ingenuity, strength and fever for life.
And of course, do not forget that the problems are the solutions, the questions are the answers and the path is the destination. The whole contained within the microscopic can forget where it came from, but we can remind each other of the origins of all things. We are not soul inventors, each a snowflake that has already been invented we run to catch up with the glorious knowledge nature has written for us. Sometimes lost to our own demise and self-love we forget the truth, and it is ok. Take the slug-killer from your pots because it poisons your own bodies, and remember that slugs too are a part of the delectable cycle. With their own magnificent stories.