want to live

In preparation for the arrival of our friends, Joel and Tina, I attempted *real* cleaning for the first time. Prior to this I have pursued making piles, moving piles, dusting from a seated position, and hassling Orion about vacuuming. Dishes, laundry, recycling...these are the things I have learned to ignore as best I can. I mean does it really matter what utensil you eat cereal with? Chopsticks are a challenge, but you can make it work. So, with friends less that 24 hours away I decided to start with the outside (drugs=sarah's logic) and hang out with the plants. Orion got me a great chair for sitting outside, with the hope that I would read and get some air/sun. If it weren't always so hot in Hollywood this might be more of a feasible goal (I'll save my rants about the weather for another day -- I am from Oregon you must remember; I like gray.)

I am in my great chair, I have all of my plant tools within reach, and I am having a heart to heart with the bonsai from Blake. My part went something like this, "please, please, you have to WANT TO LIVE." The bonsai is hanging in there, but before I gave it a trim I was concerned the brown was overtaking the green. These little guys are very high-maintenance. I knew that, I just didn't KNOW it before now. After close to an hour of staring at this small juniper (I potted a rescue-Jade too) I saw something move. Again, I come from Oregon, thus an affinity for things like beavers, salmon, and slugs.

However, not on my baby bonsai. It was the smallest slug I have ever seen, and after working at Outdoor School and trying find anything that moves on its own to show 6th graders, I have seen a lot of slugs. It was *sprinting* on my fragile micro-tree. I can't recall what it is that makes gardeners want to salt the little slimers, but there must be a good reason. That, and somewhere I read that you shouldn't water at night because it invites slugs; the implication being that this was a bad thing. So now I find myself faced with a dilemma. Here I was trying to be present and encourage the life of this tree so that I can try to remember to engage in the meditative practice of worrying about if it is on the verge of death, and now I am staring down a demi-slug and instinctively wanting to pluck it off my tree. Due to the size, said "plucking" would also result in squishing sluggie into oblivion. Not very Buddhist.

In the end, I used a bonsai tool (it came with the plant) and a dropped jade part to transfer the slug to a wet paper towel. Slug was relocated and last I saw he was mountaineering across the landscape of Bounty. I was giving bonsai a final look, when something moved. Argh! Yup, slug number two. She was faster and before she knew it was living in a sea of white moist towel. This discovery meant that I was staring at the two-tone juniper until it was too dark to see a slug even if it was hot pink. I promise not to water at night anymore, and the bonsai has agreed to try to want to live.