Dancing on Bear Ground
it’s a cool, moist, green,
morning in
mid-March
on the Mayacamas
walking
along the mowed roadside
we’re greeted by
the bright pink
flowers … of weedy little storks-bills
all facing the sun,
their color reminds us
of shooting star flowers
heading down thru abandoned pasture
toward an old oak grove,
we look for some native wildflowers …
between the annual grass seedlings and straw
we find bright pink blooms
of cut-leaved geranium
from the old world
the flower color and round leaves
evoke a teasing
faint memory
of checker-blooms
between big old bunch-grass bunches
looking, looking
and looking for wildflowers …
in acres of annual grass seedlings and straw with weeds
we find only 5 individual native plants
entering the woods
we walk past
many small young oaks
then reach a small grove of stunningly large oaks,
one after another,
each bigger yet,
we sit and lunch in the shade of the largest
(she is older than the oldest road in the region!)
“grandmother, we thank you for good company and for the shade”
after lunch
we head down
through a big patch
of annual grassland
churned over by pigs
all the soil bared
here, we imagine
grizzly bears
churning up the ground
between ancient bunch-grasses
bears digging for bulbs and mice
bears
…. ‘bear’ing
the soil
between the bunches
‘bear’ ground
a seed-bed
for new bulbs and
biodiversity
anchored by the bunch-grasses
here we imagine bears … wading
in waves
of wild hyacinth
a… blue … wildflower … sea
waves cresting with bunch-grass tassels
foam of tidy tips and popcorn flowers
splashings of bird’s-eye gilia
of lupine,
the air
aswarm
with a hundred kinds
of native bees and butterflies
bears
…. bearing
the soil
between the bunches
bear ground
a seed-bed
for new bulbs and
a riot of wildflowers
between the bunches
are runways for mice
and lizards,
churnings of gophers,
each
leaving their own
wake,
a patchwork … of tiny …
tended, tilled and trampled
places,
their activity
shaping small spaces
for flowers and bees
… bee-grounds … for … nesting,
today
a single wild hyacinth
waves
at a few passing woodland satyrs
today
we hike thru
depleted former pasture
and wonder
‘where have all the wildflowers gone?’
crossing the ravine,
we pass through young oak woodland
with annual grasses
and a scattering
of small new bunch grass babies
that haven’t grown bunchy
accompanied by a sparse sprinkling of wildflowers
rejoining the road,
we’re held-up
at the first road bank
by a gang
of shooting stars
a few buttercups
spread
into the nearby grasslands
and sleepy milkmaids
follow the road,
their heads drooping
scarlet larkspur
will soon bloom
on a steep roadcut
seedlings of
Chinese Houses
and Clarkia’s
promise later blooms
on these roadcuts too
a few more curves
and
we blink
at a crowd of baby blue-eyes
blinking back
from another bank
and we wonder,
can we
bring these wildflowers
away from the roadsides
and back
into the grasslands …
again?
let’s try
to bring
them
back
let’s
gather seeds
let’s bring
these ancient partners
… back … into the dance
let’s
bring the patterns
rhythms
synergies
… together?
let’s give a handful
of wildflowers seeds
to deer-mouse
to jumping mouse
so they can cache and plant them
together with mouse pellets
filled with spores of their favorite fungi
people, the bears, the mice
each carrying seeds and fungi
let’s come together,
squirrels too,
and birds,
each … carrying seeds and spores
let’s come together
native bees, butterflies
let’s come together
bunch-grasses and bears,
hyphae and wildflowers…
let’s come back together
and dance
let’s sing
let’s relearn the rhythms
and dance
with bears, bulbs,
bees, butterflies,
buttercups
let’s sing
and
dance
with the beauty of it
let’s’ sing and dance
… together
… again!