With the kids at school this afternoon, we gathered goldenrod galls. On an old board, I cut the galls open with a knife somewhat too dull for the work. Inside, we discovered the hidden world of the larvae, curled up in its spongy nest. All winter, these miniature creatures have lived in their solitary round homes, steadily growing, with a single shaft of light illuminating their passing days.
50 weeks – 50 weeks! – are needed to create this fly: roughly 350 days. Then, those that survive the winter, those that are lucky enough to be passed over by chickadees or curious children, live for two weeks: perhaps 14 days.
Our children, intently curious, good-humored in a light mist, have a life cycle fortunately (generally) so much different. How many long days and night have gone into my mothering? I wouldn’t begin to count. It’s not a mathematical equation.
Nor was it really mathematics we explored today beneath that rough covering. It was life.
BLUEBIRD
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there…..
– Charles Bukowski
Photo by Molly S.
Stony Soil Vermont 