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It's snowing again.
My herb garden nearly buried and only the flowery basil tips are showing. The sad little dollop of pumpkin mush that used to be our jack-o-lantern and that I set outside thinking I would dispose of properly in a day or two, is mostly covered up by the gloriously forgiving white stuff. It's like I was never lazy.
I have a confession to make: most of the time I'm not pleased to be human. We're destructive and stupid and rough and plodding things that make it difficult - if not impossible - for the world to function the way it's supposed to. And we could care less. Sometimes when I'm out walking I look over at some ducks, or a bunch of Queen Anne's Lace, or a lone willow, or some weeds growing at the side of a pond, and I feel deeply ashamed. It's like going out with a bunch of people from school to a little local's bar. You don't know them very well, but they're in your English 200 class and you want to be nice and go along. When you get there they start ordering the waitress around, making obnoxious comments about dart players, spilling drinks, complaining about the price of nachos, and mocking the décor. You smile a little wider, but there's nothing for it - you're with them and all the wishing in the world won't make it not so.
But in the winter, when the world is getting all snowy and quiet and people start to coax little green things to grow in their houses, I feel a little more hopeful. By my office window the narcissus are starting to shoot up tiny green tops. When I bought the bulbs at least four other people were doing so alongside me and I thought, "they get it too." In a couple of weeks the sad paved lots of shopping plazas will be filled with trees and garlands of greenery. People will shake the boughs and knock the trunk onto the packed snow - "This one looks good. It's nice and even," their faces flushed and happy - as though they knew about trees and cared about trees. Maybe they do. Maybe there's something in us still that makes us feel better when we're surrounded by growing things. Maybe there's something in us still that makes us react to the darkest and coldest time of the year by worshipping and celebrating all things that still grow.
Maybe we're not total assholes yet.
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