Homesteading Middles/Letter to My Children: Invasives and Heavy Machinery Learnings

Dearest Beloveds,

As you know - everywhere there is an edge from open space to tall trees (forest or fallen trees) on our stewarded space - we have invasive plants.

They are mostly a panoply of Multiflora Rose, Autumn Olive (promoted by the USDA in the 1960s as a windbreak or wildlife habitat - now on the USDA invasives list), Japanese Honeysuckle, Porcelainberry vines (or Wild Grape, the jury is out), and a few Black Locusts in the fields themselves. This is obviously not the complete list of invasive plants on our land (I see you Garlic mustard and mugwort) - but these are the hardy woody perennials.

With the exception of the Wild Grape and Black Locust - all of those verdant happy plants originally were introduced from Asia in the 1800s as erosion control, ornamental hedges, and mitigators for disturbed land (mining etc). One can almost get the sense the entire East Coast was stripped bare of plants with overzealous mining and tree clearing (it was) and these plants came in to save the day.

A part of me admires the Trickster joke from Gaia on that one - Okay, you want to cut down all the trees for money and now there is an erosion issue that needs mitigation? Fine, go ahead - uproot these ones from their home across the globe and see what happens. I can wait 200 years for the joke to land.

Meanwhile, what to do.

A few years ago I rented a walk behind brush mower to push back the growth. It was the size of a large lawnmower and incredibly satisfying. It was also very heavy and difficult to maneuver (especially on inclines). There were a few moments when I remember feeling as though I might be one brush hogged as I would strain the machine maw up a hillside.

A few months ago, I had the thrilling idea to rent a skid steer with a brush hog attachment. I wouldn’t have to push; I would be comfortable (even climate controlled if so desired); and, most importantly, it would do a very thorough job grinding down foliage wherever I wanted.

So I cleared my schedule and I rented a skid steer with a brush hog attachment.

It was awful.

The morning dawns and I felt numb, nauseous, nervous, and worried. My body was tight and twitchy. How am I going to control this BEAST of a machine? Why are there so many controls? What if I hurt something? What am I DOING?

Ensconced on my machine throne, I gritted my teeth as I pounded the earth.

I prayed to the invasives. I am sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you.

I prayed to the insects and the birds and the frogs and the earthworms. I am sorry. I will be done as soon as I can. I am never going to do this again. I know it is loud. Please don’t be frightened. The crazy human will be done soon making this huge racket and churning up the soil whenever she turns.

Never again.

The machine made it physically easy - and it was emotionally exhausting. I felt terrified of the power at my disposal: the brute force capable of shearing and plunging through all plant life.

Beloveds, hand tools equate with my body. My muscles propel the work; my eyes notice when I dig a hole a see a worm to place lovingly onto a nearby plant; my fingernail get dirty; my body sweats. I stand on Gaia and She supports me as I care for Her creations.

My thoughts wander as I work with Her.

Sometimes I sing; sometimes I daydream; sometimes I think about you two. I feel fed by Her when I work on Her. When it is time for me to move on - I clean up, brush twigs out of my hair, check for ticks, and I feel clean. Inside and out clean.

This machine was not that. By the end of the day (as you know) I felt torn apart on the inside - just as the machine tore apart soil. I felt dirty internally. In retrospect, I felt out of integrity. How can I say I love the Earth and spent the day doing what I just did?

Instead of delicious physical exhaustion, I was exhausted from the stress of manipulating two joysticks with buttons.

What is fascinating for your mother is that as traumatic as it was - and I don’t use that word lightly. What is fascinating is that the next morning - I woke up and a small part of me wanted to do more. More devouring of fragile plants. More land moving from my padded chair. More power. More speed.

Wow.

This desire is very clearly an example of the human supremacy Arkan Lushwala mentions. The Cranky Monster part of me likes the thrill of DESTRUCTION and wants to be POWERFUL and show the WORLD that I can MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So I invited that part of me to sit down next to me. She and I sat and I patted her hand. You are okay. I know the hand tools are slower and seem inefficient. There is no rush. Capitalism tells you there is time crunch. That is all invented. I see you and I love your somatic capitalism. We can get through this together.

Children, capitalism tells you there is a time crunch. Our culture inculcates you in myriad ways: at school What time do you need to leave the house to make a train that leaves at X if you live 27 minutes away? - with yearly birthdays Mom, she got her phone when she was 13! - with sports No way he is so good at soccer - he is only in first grade!. In adulthood these morph into She retired at age 35, wow! Or a perennial favorite, If I don’t find someone to marry by the time I am XX I am a loser. On and on and on.

I am here to remind you again and again and again - see that invention for what it is.

And once you see it for what it is - an invention - you have a choice to participate or not.

I support whatever choice you make that is aligned with your own integrity. I love you and that choice.