Crying Among the Onions

 

It's that time of year once again. The planting and weeding season. The onions are coming up, but so too are the weeds. Lots of weeds. Truthfully, these so-called weeds look a lot like ordinary grass. It seems cruel to judge them, separate them from the majestic onion sprouts and pull them out, but that's what must be done if we are to give the onions room to grow, and breathe, and flourish. Feels like a metaphor for art-making, doesn't it?

Our gardener happens to be an artist. She carefully nudges the weeds out. You see her here in this photograph--kneeling, trowel in hand, solemnly facing down the task before her, gently clearing the new earth from between the tender new onion shoots. She does not scold the weeds for being weeds. She simply kneels in supplication and goes about her work.

Today I found her crying among the onions. We talked and she told me about a problem at home. I offered some comforting words. And then, together sitting under the bright sunlight, we talked about life. Family. Heartbreak and happiness. So, there we were--two women kneeling before a row of onions, both of us crying, tears falling and melting into the ground before us. The garden bearing witness to this seemingly ordinary (yet, anything but ordinary) moment.

The spring has been cool and rainy but come summer, I expect our garden will offer forth a great bounty. And then, in September when the tops turn yellow and dry out, and we begin braiding the onions, we'll look back at the month of May, knowing that these onions hold the memories of our tears. And these onions will be made sweeter for it.

Creative Friends--your life is filled with juxtapositions. But know this--underneath the current tumult--something new and beautiful and sweet is taking root. It might be buried under the current noise, but take heart--it is pushing up through the darkness--readying itself to emerge. Stay strong. Keep planting, keep weeding. Better days are coming.

Love,

Jamie