During the height of COVID, my boyfriend and I started planting up my backyard.
We planted a Cara Cara orange tree, a Blue Palo Verde tree, some pink fairy dusters, Texas purple sage, bougainvillea, orange bells, and even a desert willow tree. Yeah, we went kinda nuts. We’re still going.
I’ve been coaxing along the new plants, especially the orange tree, which has been struggling since we planted him. I want the trees to grow big, and fast, because I live in the desert and cannot wait to have more shade in the backyard.
But nature has a way of forcing reminders on us.
The orange tree is now entering his second summer in the ground. Last year, no amount of water or tilling seemed to improve his stunted growth. Rather than give up, I dove into seeking answers. After lots of research, a visit from a local arborist, and consistent work to improve the soil structure, he’s finally growing this month.
Wide, bushy leaves. New branches. YES!
However, I now find myself checking him every day and studying his growth. Why won’t he grow faster? C’mon, orange tree! You know you want to shade your trunk so next year, you can produce tons of healthy and juicy oranges for us.
Alas, the orange tree grows at his own pace. He doesn’t care how much water I give him, how much I talk to him daily, whether the fertilizer I used was the perfect fit. He’s growing on his time. Damned be the rest of the world.
My little orange tree reminded me that everything takes time to grow—including me. When I look at old photos of my backyard, I see how bare it once was. I can observe how small the plants were just a year ago. Comparing photos shows the progress, and each time, it surprises me.
Nonetheless, I’ve been running outside every morning trying to find signs of significant progress, but I never find it. Instead, I get frustrated—like so many of us. We want to be better, happier, stronger, more successful. We want to understand the meaning of life, our meaning on this earth, and the answers to who-knows-what questions.
Most of all, we want it right now.
But nature won’t allow us instant gratification, because like the orange tree, we are part of nature. The modern world has moved us away from our roots in the natural world, where nothing grows fast. We’ve forgotten that. I’ve forgotten that.
If my orange tree, and Palo Verde tree, and desert willow tree take time to grow, what makes me think I’m different? Why should I be the exception to the rule? In the vast landscape of time and creation, I am a mere speck of dust, and the rules of the universe apply to me as aptly as they apply to anyone or anything else.
My parents told me I walked by 9 months old. I always wanted to move to the next stage of development faster than time allowed. I suppose impatience was bred into my blood.
However, returning to nature helps me fight those fast-paced and frustrated urges. It allows me to give myself time. If nature prefers to take life easy, and I’m part of nature, then why the rush?
Here is a little sneak peek at a six-part serialized short story I recently finished writing called, “The Curious Case of Elizabeth Seams.” I’ll be publishing it for free starting in August for all my subscribers here on Rogue Writer! Keep your eyes peeled on your inboxes so you don’t miss it …
The Curious Case of Elizabeth Seams
They said she summoned spirits from beyond—the bad kind—but when I met Elizabeth Seams, I saw only a shy, introspective, twelve-year-old girl.
She wore pigtails, and played with Barbies, and talked about Ariana Grande. She looked young for her age. I noticed that immediately about her. However, the moment she spoke, she quoted Edgar Allan Poe without hesitation and later told me her favorite book was The Giver by Lois Lowry.
My editor had heard of the girl who talks to trees while searching the social media stratosphere for peculiar and eccentric stories. It was a tweet from a man with fifty-two followers who claimed to be a government watchdog that caught my editor’s eye.
I never thought of an orange tree as being male or female.