Plants Don't Lie

Pussy Willows are strangely hard to photograph. I wanted to get a close-up of the drops of water on them, but couldn’t get them into focus. But they really are pink.

My pink pussy willows have been blooming for the past week, even though the ground is still covered in crusty snow. The hope of Spring is dangling itself in front of my winter-weary face, and I am trying to have faith in what I see. Because everything I am seeing online — the news, the commentary, the videos, the conspiracy theories — all seem like lies and are making me doubt myself. But then I remember, plants don’t lie.

Who dropped the bomb on the girls’ school? Israel? America? Iran? No one truly agrees, and someone, or everyone, is lying. It’s all propaganda. It’s all boys with their phallic toys getting a thrill from blowing shit up. I refuse to watch the war porn, or to even take sides — other than the side of children everywhere. I have seen this movie before, and it never ends well. It won’t end until we evolve out of tribal organized religions and escape the prison of money, power, and oil. Which may never happen. For every Ayatollah, or other despotic dictator (I won’t name them all, but you can guess), who is decapitated, a new one, or multiple ones, arise. Like a Hydra.

I remember reading Skinny Legs and All, by Tom Robbins, when it came out in 1995. It’s worth a re-read because it reminds us that these conflicts are ancient and won’t be resolved by negotiations with corrupted men who profit from war and destruction. And by profit, I mean financial, emotional, ego, power, and probably sexual thrills and abuses. As long as this is the reality, women and children will never get justice.

And that, my friends, is exactly why nature and gardening are so important and such powerful healers. Nature is not benign and can be devastating. But when we respect nature and learn from it, we learn how to survive and collaborate with each other rather than fight and destroy each other. But plants…plants don’t lie. They grow in every crack, in every empty spot. They show us who we are and how we are living. They tell stories and teach us resilience. They let us eat them for nourishment. But also make us sick and kill us if we don’t pay attention to who they are and what their purpose is.

Plants don’t lie.

Although sometimes they trick insects into trying to mate with them so they can procreate. But that’s not competition or destruction, that’s collaboration and mutual pleasure. It’s a win-win. Although let’s not forget, everything in nature eats something.

Orchids are masters of disguise. I stole this shot from a Facebook account.

Plants also teach us that the “war on weeds,” just like the “war on terror” and the “war on drugs,” is futile and actually makes things worse. The poisoning of the earth with herbicides has only created super-weeds. The attempts to eradicate terror have only created more terrorists. And the war on drugs has only led to drugs being more powerful and prevalent. Instead of starting with war and violence, we need to start with questions: Why do people hate weeds? How are terrorists created? Why do people do drugs? And who really benefits from these wars?

The last two years, I stopped weeding altogether, and I met some incredible new plants! Beautiful plants that host food for birds and bees. Plants that are too fragile to be sold (or trafficked?) in plant stores. I stopped doing drugs and drinking when I decided to confront and heal my pain and suffering rather than submerge it.

Say hello to Moth Mullein, which is a pollinator magnet, deer-resistant, drought-tolerant, and a repeat bloomer. But don’t eat it. It’s a weed, but I like it.

Last night I had an epiphany. I was reading a book (which I shall not name) that went into great detail about the Big Bang, the explosion that started it all. Awe of the big bang seems to be a very masculine love affair, just like romancing the caveman days and eating bloody red meat. I wondered, and am still wondering, is the Big Bang the way men try to feel like they are creating things? They can’t give birth, but they can explode stuff. In fact, a male orgasm (explosion) is their primary part in creating life. They can explode things, including people, and then build phallic skyscrapers on top of the rubble and bones, creating monuments to their sterile creation powers.

But we women know that one little male explosion can lead to nine months of growing a small, vulnerable human. A bloody, painful birth. And a lifetime of love and responsibility…IF all goes well. And that’s a big IF.

Look, the world is fucked up. People are a mess. Nature is unpredictable and sometimes violent. But plants don’t lie.