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Author, Anonymous I wasn't quite sure why my friend was so hesitant. Her task was simple: pick up the fallen pine needles and conical swirlies strewn on the ground so I can find the delicate dichondra growth well enough to help it along at some point. Her conflict appeared to be related to the surly black bug that surfaced from a clump as she turned over a small stone. She was having a lot of trouble displacing it. "I'm not sure I can do this," she confided; "I'm harming so many living beings." I leaned over, scooped up a handful of earth just under the clump, and the bug along with it, and gently tossed both over a wall onto the terrace two feet below us. I don't know how she felt about that but I felt like a woman of swift albeit borderline solutions and grinned, knowing in my heart of hearts that she was the better of the two of us. Protecting life is a tenet of her faith and mine, although one of us would probably not couch it in those terms. "It'll be okay. Their lives are a series of unforeseen displacements," I said and left it at that. I don't know whether she was able to buy into that justification but I was okay with it. Truly, I understood in my heart that hers was the higher if unsustainable ground given human needs and the sheer number of insects on earth. Still, I can offer some support-- I can take no lives; I can cover the bucket of water so the little ones don't jump in; I can offer shade to the delicate lilies and ferns-- It's a start. And why not, since I'm out there gardening mainly to learn how to love. tah.
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