Seed Pods

As I sit at my desk, feeling rather empty of ideas for my Sunday blog writing, I look outside my window and see the mesquite tree's brown seed pods still hanging on the branches. Crinkled and brown, they are full and seemingly still tightly woven onto the tree. They survived the winds, wetness and frigid temperatures of the week. At what point, I wonder, will they fall?

I will look to them as my metaphoric symbol of the week. They are tenacious and move into action when the time is right. Until that time, they wait and serve as textured ornaments on a tree that never loses its leaves. I have to smile a bit as I let my imagination wander because they also look phaellic-with-a-bend which takes my imagination to places I won't write about!

One of my friends who has a friend who is an astrologer said that from January to June, it's a time of new beginnings. After the Tucson shootings four weekends ago, we could use a new beginning in the Old Pueblo, but I witness how we are carry our old baggage with us as we move forward. Some of the memorial mementos have been published as photos in the local newspaper; all of them will be catelogued by the UA Library staff--a job that is both an honor and a burden, I think. Today, an editorialist wrote about Tucson as a town of "threats" that started after the 2008 national election and continues, with another layer of vigilante-style justice (my words, not the newspaper's) since the shootings. It's true and yet cooler heads are also present in our community, establishing living memorials for the shooting victims at various non-profits.

It's not easy to wait for when the time is right. To be a seed pod is an important job--filling up with the necessary nutrients to lay in touch desert soil, rarely nurtured by rain, baked by summer sun, and, yet, miraculously, some seeds take root in the summer season and grow. I hope that for us in Tucson, we can experience rebirth as the mesquite seeds push their tiny, furry green heads through the rocks.