The Park Fire here in northern California tried to snake its fiery fingers right into my world, coming within three miles of my house. It freaked the living daylights out of me, relentlessly debilitating me for a whole month.
The fire is still raging, many miles to the north, over 450,000 scares burnt, lives cut short, homes and businesses destroyed beyond repair. It’s too devastating to think about how close it came.
My neighborhood was on a on-your-toes evacuation alert for a seemingly endless two weeks. We didn’t know up from down – whether to go, stay, eat, sleep, go to work, escape to out-of-town relatives . . .
I was dumbfounded how completely the aura of fear and chaos saturated every aspect of my life. I even kept my phone by me 24/7 – which I never, ever do – staying on top of the alerts.
I couldn’t get two thoughts to line up right, or focus on any damn thing for more than two minutes - if that. I felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under me. It’s taken a month to get steady again, finally getting my feet back under myself.
My plants helped me come back.
Not that I have any fabulous garden! I don’t – not even in the slightest. I have a bunch of old, used, dirt-filled pots stacked up on the sides of my door stoop, with four scraggly pots that sit beside and on top of them.
Within those four pots are a couple of ragged carrot plants, a few limp garlic stems, a little oak tree I rescued from the landscapers’ weed-whackers on their weekly rounds, and some kind of Hasta-like group of beautiful long knife-like leaves.
It was the carrots.
I was standing in my doorway, letting the sun blast my face in the searing heat of noon. I looked down, finally, and absently noticed the bent, withered carrot stems. At the very ends of those shrunken brown stems were the most glorious, frothy, deep green leaf-clouds I’d ever seen on any carrot plant.
It struck me like a hammer how, no matter what, life really does go on, even in the face of the most dire calamities.
No matter what we puny humans do, have, or feel, no matter what we do to it, it pulls itself out from under our pathetic attempts to control it, wreck it, tame it or exploit it. It slides out of control into thunderclouds and lightning zaps of joy and peace and harmony the likes of which we can only dream of being able to create, ourselves.
In my head, the Voice of Dreaming said – loud! – “Well, Angela, if that little carrot plant can not only survive, but flaunt such gorgeous leaves, what’s your excuse? What will you do from now on to add to life, instead of crying and whining, ‘Oh the fire! Oh, the fire!’ and hiding under the covers like a two-year old afraid of her own shadow?”
Ugh! Gut-punched! He was right! So I slouched back inside, almost ashamed but not really, determined to create a shift.
My desk was buried under a mountain of paper. Despite my all-consuming fire-worry/fear/stuckness, I had filled 3×5 cards and odd slips of paper with thoughts that had somehow leaked through the mental morass of fear and confusion – a month’s worth of unread, un-acted-upon ideas.
Hahaha - I bet you thought I’d say I sat here and went through them all! Wrong! I swept the whole pile into a box that now sits under the table by my desk. How long they stay there remains to be seen. Over the next few weeks, I’ll pick at it for treats.
In the kind-time, I just happened to stumble upon some photos of my garden in Hawaii. It was there that I had some of the most life-giving experiences that I’ve ever had - all because of that garden.
I had over 90 different species in my tiny garden there – flowers, bushes, trees – I miss it terribly. Birdies of all kinds. Date palms, exotic orchids, ferns and weird things I had no idea what they were.
Fabulously odorific vanilla vines, gardenias, and a rebel night-blooming jasmine that liked to bloom in the day as well.
Ohhh and another night-bloomer – a towering Cerius plant that climbed all the way up the garage wall and spread itself all over the roof! Have you ever seen one? Heavenly!
I took care of them all like precious angels.
I had three colors of nasturtiums – yellow, red and deep orange. Did you know you can eat them? Peppery, they are! So pretty garnishing a salad! They engulfed a whole corner of the garden, running all through the other plants and up over the fence into my neighbor’s yard.
The next thing I knew, the photos were down on the floor in a heap, and I was drawing again.
Drawing is my Happy Place - if I can keep drawing, I’ll be happy as a clam at high tide.
So, despite the over-100 degree heat we’ve been having, I’m now, finally, getting shit done.
This drawing took bloody hours to complete - not sure why I was so willing to diddly-doof with so many details. Look at those colors! How could anyone stay down with something like that in their face?
I like it. It will make a glorious silk scarf! Or tapestry. Or pillow. Or maybe - how about a blanket with that image on it - that will keep you warm and toasty!
Thank you, Nasturtiums and pals, you brought me back from confusion and despair. The sensation of life is dribbling back into my body. I can feel my eyes lighting up again. I’m so grateful.
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SAVED by the NASTIES
© Angela Treat Lyon 2024
See more glorious art here: instagram.com/angela.treat.lyon/