Transitions

 

Last month the Western Salsify (aka Goat's Beard, Tragopogon dubius) went through its changes, making the transition from flower bud to full blown seed head. In this photo the seed head is somewhat bedraggled from a recent rain. Otherwise, they look like giant dandelion seed heads. The flower bud is difficult to see here so I've circled it in the picture to the right. 

Salsify was introduced to the US by immigrants from Europe and Eurasia a long time ago because it is a food plant. Since then it naturalized and has come to be seen as a weed. The supposed flavor of its thick tap root became the origin of one of its common names, Oyster Plant. The whole plant is edible, from the grass like young leaves of the first year form of this biennial, to the stalks and seeds.

I haven't eaten salsify... most of the plants I've seen are growing alongside my driveway and would be extremely difficult to dig. Since they're growing in tall grass, I can't see the first-year forms. Last year I gathered seed to plant in a garden at some point, so it has cushy soil in which to grow large, straight roots, and in which I can find the grass-like first-year plants. Maybe next year.

The salsify has completed its journey from bud to seed, and now scatters its progeny in the wind. The year transitions from mid-summer's fresh, floriferous growth into late summers yellowing. Yellow flowers, like the grayhead coneflower, and the white umbels of wild carrot (Queen Anne's Lace) predominate now.

My husband and I also are in transition. This process has taken more than a year, so far. While one phase of it is coming to a close, we have no idea when the process will end. Of course, all of life is a transition from one state to another. Some are just bigger than others.

And this is a huge change. More than a year ago, we started discussing selling our rights to Spirit Bird Farm and down-sizing a bit. We'll still want a large garden, but this place requires more work than we are able to give it without wearing ourselves down. My husband received a cancer diagnosis five years ago. Treatment and his aggressive self-care methods have kept it in check. He is strong and healthy, but has no guarantees. 

A couple of years ago, my husband (a retired Functional Medicine physician) noticed that my cognition had significantly declined, which started me on my own aggressive healing path (after significant resistance and foot-dragging on my part). It has worked to bring my cognition back, but I have to remain on this path for the rest of my life to maintain it. My self-care  requires two or more hours a day, when done to its full extent, taking that time away from other work. Spring of last year was difficult for me. The spring planting and tending felt overwhelming. 

So, when my husband suggested we consider selling, the conversation went much differently than other times in the past. I immediately agreed. I was exhausted. Of course, we went back and forth with that decision, crafting different scenarios that would allow us to stay. But those all seemed like plans we should have set in motion years sooner. 

In late winter we started purging in earnest, donating, selling, giving away a lot (I mean A LOT) of stuff collecting over the past 18 years, some of which we each brought to the household from our previous lives. Fortunately, some friends and neighbors are currently building their homestead while we are taking ours down, so they took a good bit. The purge was sometimes painful for me, as I gave away a number of things I didn't want to let go of. I kept some things that I probably will later release, however, as the pain of too much releasing at once subsides.

Finally, we felt ready to go through the selling process. Our real estate agent told us we were past the prime market season, but we couldn't get ready any sooner. On Monday last week the listing went "live." That evening a younger couple came to view the place. They were still here when we returned after being gone for the requisite hour. We liked them and felt that we would rest easy if they became stewards of this place. 

The next morning I asked the land if it had called in these people to take over its care. The answer was a phone call from our agent saying that they had made an offer so "clean" he could find no reason not to accept. And so we soon will come to the end of the first phase of our big transition. 

I went through enormous grief during the first months after our decision. I cried many tears. Now, when I walk through the garden and along the perimeter, all I feel is Love... Love and Peace, and relief. I look forward to having breathing space, to being able to take up pastimes I've had no time for in recent years. Living in our neighbor's basement will require a significant adjustment. I will miss many things about living here, especially all of the group saunas we've hosted, during which we developed deep friendships.

We're floating in freefall at the moment, with no certain plan, but many possibilities. 

And it feels good.