Milkweed is a food source for monarch butterflies and other pollinators. You may remember that I left a few stalks to grow in the garden this year. Those few stalks have turned into a dozen or so. They are now going to seed and each stalk holds the potential for hundreds more plants. The seeds are blowing into every other raised bed in the garden as well as into the surrounding field. I suspect I will wrestle with whether or not to leave the milkweed or plant vegetables next spring. For now, I am appreciating the abundance of the dispersal. On this crisp and sunny fall afternoon, I spent a few long minutes sitting with the seed pods and seeds.
In the field and in the garden,
milkweed pods are dry and cracked open.
Bursting with potential,
each pod holds hundreds of seeds.
They hang now in clumps,
expanding and loosening
as the sun and wind fluff and dry
the silky hairs that extend from each seed.
When the time is right,
the wind will nudge them, one at a time, into the wider world.
As they each float away from the mother plant,
I notice that no two move the same way.
Some rise up and travel a long distance
before gently floating to a resting spot.
Others descend almost as soon as they are launched,
caught in nearby leaves and stalks.
Watching this dance of holding and release,
drifting and floating,
appreciating the abundance and
possibility both held and scattered,
I consider the bulging seed pod of human potential,
Alive in each of us. Alive in me.
I am waiting patiently (and not so patiently)
For our seed pod to crack open,
and our goodness to pour out on the wind.
I am summoning the courage
to release the gifts I have held dear
and give them freely to the world.
I am trusting the wisdom of our collective
to know when it is time to rise in action
and when it is time to lay quiet.
I am honoring the turning of the season
and within me.