This is the B in March:
And the B in late May:
Apparently, because its roots were in the ground and not in a pot (i.e., exposed to all sides), it survived, though it looked dicey.
But life comes around.
I've been doing these weekly walks with residents here, the "Discovering the Community" group, and I've noticed myself being an advocate for awe. And I'm really feeling it, how amazingly complex and diverse the life is even this little funky neighborhood in the South Bay. If you carry the image of Mars (not even the Mojave, which is bursting with life in comparison) as you go through your common day, the astounding quality of richness really pops out of what is otherwise a "typical day."
Like with this bougainvillea bush. It's probably one of a thousand in this area, common in these terms. But as far as we know, there's no B bush for a million miles around this little planet, not on all the solar planets, not in the space between or the floating rock belt, just here. And it's taken, what, a billion years to rise up from a few sticky amino acids to even challenge the late winter frost of the Peninsula for it's chance to keep living.
It sort of reminds me of great athletes, or musicians, or therapists for that matter. You watch them perform, and their greatness is not presented, it just emerges from their ground of being. A tremendous amount of effort, energy, and work has gone into structuring that ground, but the expression does not have a self-consciousness about it. It sort of just happens.
Like my B-friend out there. It's accomplishing something--surviving the frost, and merely being alive--that given the forces arrayed against it, and the opportunities to die from one thing or another, is quietly astounding. It's as if the universe juggles fifteen balls with its feet just as a matter of course, with the simplicity of walking, and just gives a little frown and shrug when you point it out. "Well, ok, but what else am I going to be doing?"
So give it up for the bougainvillea!
