“Do you know you have an invasive species growing here?”
July 19, 2021
“Do you know you have an invasive species growing here?”
We were hosting a backyard gathering: one of our first since moving into our new house last fall. She was the curious, high-energy daughter of some new friends of ours and she had spent the morning rotating between climbing our backyard tree, and surveying our perimeter, which is lined with hostas, trees, flowering plants, and perennial vines.
“It will soon take over your yard and kill all of your plants,” she said, with a serious, concerned expression.
I asked her to show me what she meant, and she waved me over to one corner of our property. They were bright green and clover-like. The name escapes me now. I thanked her sincerely for pointing them out to me and made a promise to her that I would take care of them, perhaps even later that day.
I eyed the troublesome areas of our backyard from our kitchen windows for weeks but ignored them every time I stepped into our backyard. Soon enough, the beautiful clover-like invaders had invited their friends over to taste our soil. They had found places to grow all over our yard: under our trees, and in between our hostas.
And so one day, I ventured out. First, to rid our yard of the pesky intruders. Then, to tackle the weedy vines that had grown quite substantially around our fence line in two spots. The vines had begun to suffocate one another, many leaning forward in their form of escape. I started from the top, giving them a delicate haircut at first and unwrapping the dying vines that had twisted themselves around the bright, vivacious ones.
It turns out I can lose myself in a backyard project, which is perhaps one of the many reasons I have trouble beginning on one. Minutes turn into hours, and I become far less delicate in my efforts to get the job done. Each new drop of sweat is motivation to work harder. I soon took to the meatier branches. I pulled back on them more aggressively and dismissed ripped leaves as a sacrifice towards the greater mission. I woke up the next morning with achy, sun-kissed shoulders and sore quads, but ready to begin again.
Once I’ve committed to an outdoor project, I usually venture back inside a dirt-covered warrior after a hard-fought battle. But walking by the unruly vines in my backyard was a reminder of all the things I hadn’t yet gotten to. A few days ago, I checked back to see how the vines were doing. They were top-heavy and poorly thinned out. The wooden trellis they had wrapped themselves around had split slightly. Many of the vines were browning and crisping at the ends. In my efforts to thin out the vines, I had overdone it. The more I did, the more I saw to do. Whack, chop. I had cut at its core in spots.
Anxiety can work like this in me. It creeps in and settles into the corners of my mind until I have no choice but to take care of it. And without the proper tools and patience to tackle it right, it soon becomes quite unclear which roots need tending to.
I launched into this summer with a feeling of overwhelm that I couldn’t quite place. I felt a wave of anger and anxiety growing inside of me, despite the blessings and the beauty I had surrounding me. I had a sweet six-month-old baby, for example, and an endearing husband. I had the kindest of friends and the promise of summer and sunshine ahead.
Motherhood is, at its core, pure joy for me. I keep thinking the days can’t get any sweeter, but they can, and they do, and they will continue to. I know this. Becoming a mother is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I feel more like myself in this role than I ever have, yet I am often tired, and my mind is not clear. I am both floating on a cloud of bliss and grounded heavily by the weight of fatigue and responsibility.
I can better sense now when the overwhelm is coming. And so I pause. I do yoga. I wiggle my toes in the earth and breathe. I brew a large pot of coffee, open up my journal and reflect. And that has been good.
There is still work to do. There are still vines to be trimmed. The therapist I saw virtually a few times in the weeks following the delivery of my son still drops a note into my inbox on occasion. “I’m here if you need me,” she writes.
I have allowed some of the older vines to stay: thick and rooted at the base of my fenceline. They claimed their place in our yard years ago, after all, and bore witness to the stories of our home’s previous owners. They are ugly, but they have wisdom. And the brighter vines, no longer suffocating, have begun to wrap and coil themselves around them, growing up towards the sun.
Things I’ve loved this past week
He is back, and he is as humble as ever. I enjoyed this interview with Ed Sheeran, plus heaps of other interviews he has done recently about his time away from the spotlight and his new song Bad Habits. I also stumbled upon Ed Sheeran’s audition for Britannia High at age 16 in which he tries to dance. It’s charming.
This USA TODAY article, which lists some of the major retail players that will be closed on Thanksgiving of this year. This story was first published June 8 and will be updated as retailers announce their 2021 holiday plans.
A YouTube influencer’s transformation with daily meditation (video).
This article about how to transition back to working at an office if you have a pet that has never experienced you working out of the home.
The NY Times piece on how to make small talk again after a year-plus of a global pandemic.
The Armchair Expert podcast episode with Michael Pollan about plants and their role in consciousness changing. It’s fascinating and contains a lot to “digest”.
What I’m listening to
This prenatal playlist, curated by Goodnight Doula Mpls. I go back to this time and time again as a yoga soundtrack or when taking some time to relax at home.
What I’m reading
“The Bluest Eye” by Toni Morrison
My “Last Week Look-Back” posts are me at my most honest: an unpolished spewing of reflections and ramblings on - well, whatever comes to mind, really.
I intend to post these at least bi-monthly, but hey - life gets busy. So I hope you’ll check back often, and follow me on Instagram at @wordsby_jennamarie for updates.
I’m so glad you’re here. Thanks for reading!