labyrinths of weeds

I’ve walked labyrinths made from stone and seashell, from canvas, on intricate tile. Today’s labyrinth was made of dirt, weeds, and wood chips.

My hubz has his second garden plot in a community garden endeavor. It get full sun, so he has particular plantings there. He invited me along today, so that I could walk the labyrinth there. “Goodness”, I exclaimed. A labyrinth! So I went.

One must go prepared to a labyrinth. Usually it is simply with the willingness to enter in. This farm labyrinth required hearty shoes and jeans. At first glance the eye follows the pathway made of dirt clods. Beloved hubz let me know that the grass is the actually path, and helped me find the entrance. It was a little obscure. I had on sandles at first. Soon, the thistles began to sting. Happily, I had those heartier shoes in the Jeep, and on a swing of the circuit close to the entrance, I slipped off path and re-shod my feet. Much better.

I decided to not get a full view intake of the pathways, allowing the unfolding instead with each step. In this way, the walking forced a pace that could be unhurried, because I might get to the center soon, or late, but I would get there in time.

Along the way were yellow headed dandelions, white fluffy seed headed dandelions, naked without costume dandelions…flourish to spent. There was red clover, white clover, broad leaf plantain, nettles a’plenty. What I really enjoyed was the crunch crunch crunch on the wood chips.

Soon enough, the weathered slats of the compost bin was dead on ahead, but this was not the center. I skirted around it, on the carefully laid path, and kept walking. Again, soon enough, the path ended. It was a place to stand, to turn, to give thanks, to feel the sun. I opened my eyes to see Kurt over yonder in the garden, handmade hoe and floppy hat his companions, bent to his task. My heart always leaps to spy him unaware; no matter the grit, the grime, the machinery oil.

I think it is always tempting, when one knows they are half way through their journey, to take the shortcut to the end. I was tempted now. But to what end? To sit in the hot Jeep and wait? No, I kept crunching along, happy to be moving. My hips ached a bit, but it was a warm, sweet ache of gratitude for getting to stretch a bit after a 2 month hiatus. My goober knees were flexible and strong. Enough anyway. And I was enjoying myself.

A journey is a good thing. One of a thousand steps, or 2278 on a labyrinth. We see life down to its buggy details and blossoming vitality. We get dirty, but are unhurried. We can take a short cut if we wanna, or keep going.

You, too, can walk this labyrinth. It is located at Miller Farm, of Earlham College. Wear hearty shoes and jeans.

With crunch love,