001. New Themes Entered Upon
From section 103. New Themes Entered Upon.
That’s how the next section began. The nature notes part of Specimen Days. A transition point, new themes to enter upon. For pages before, Whitman wrote about war and sickness and darkness. And he notes this is an abrupt change, as I mentioned in the opening to this challenge. But now, he says “I restore my book to the bracing and buoyant equilibrium of concrete outdoor nature, the only permanent reliance for sanity of book or human life.”
I need some new themes too. Not just in my writing life but my garden as well.
Lately, the garden is looking a little bit like my writing–lifeless and drained. The drought and high heat from this summer has not been kind to the things that grow. The grass is frizzled, as if someone took a torch to it. The leaves of many perennials are yellowing, signs of dormancy. Even the flowering plants have little to show this year.
Frustrated and restless, and probably procrastinating my writing, as I’m prone to do, I turned my attention to the vegetable garden. Maybe the perennials were spent, but at least I could try to do something about the vegetable garden.
On an unusually cool morning, in an unusually quiet moment, I found myself on my hands and knees in the garden eager to work. I cleared away the weeds in between the tomatoes and the lettuce and the peppers. I harvested what was ready–the carrots and the green beans and the beets. I pulled out what was spent–the peas and the arugula and the broccoli that never grew. When I stood up to admire my work, the garden boxes were sparse. Sparse, and yet alive. The tomatoes were just starting their shining season. The peppers had little flowers. Even the lettuce looked healthier than I knew it was. Instead of noticing what wasn’t there, I was finally able to see what was, as well as what could be. I started to dream of a second planting season, one that could take me all the way until November.
Maybe that’s what I’m doing with this new project. I’m simplifying my goals. Just nature. Just notice. Just write. With a simplified focus, I’ve cleared out the parts of writing overcrowding my brain–the hard stuff, the long stuff, the not quite fleshed stuff–leaving room for the things that are actually growing well–my thoughts on nature–to thrive. And with this cleared out space, I feel there may be room for more writing to grow.
The garden isn’t finished just yet. 100 days is a long time to watch things grow. New themes all around. Onward.