I pulled out the last of them with the point of a rock climbing pick.
The dirt was hard– their stems thick as rhubarb.
Then it rained for five days straight. Bastard Cabbages returned, invading my sweet garden, their leaves spreading wide like skirts of French court gowns.
But such extravagance left little room for daisies, snapdragons, and sweet peas started from seed.
I carved out a space around the tiny flowers. They, too, needed light and air.
I dug my hands into the cold, moist soil, dark with iron-stained oak leaves, geraniums collapsed into themselves, the soft wreckage of mulch returning to its first idea.
There were celandine and verdigris succulents stained with bluish grey, swollen with the calm confidence of continuing. They rose from cuttings I gathered last season– still busy, even now, making life.
As I knelt there, I thought– does the one who never tends a plant miss this small astonishment, this unannounced miracle, or is it enough to stand back, hands clean, and love the beauty without knowing how deeply it must be touched to appear?
In the oak beside my house, there lived three sprites, Three mischievous squirrels, with morning delights. At six they’d start, with a thump and a leap, On my bedroom roof, disturbing my sleep.
They’d dig up my tulips, so eager and keen, Gnaw at my porch, where they often were seen. Cracked acorns scattered, my yard was their feast, These furry intruders, to say the least.
I grumbled and muttered, “A nuisance, no doubt, These bothersome squirrels I can do without.” Yet, one fateful day, my neighbors took heed, They chopped down the oak, the squirrels left – Godspeed!
No more early wakes, no more tulips dug, No gnawing on wood, no playful bug. But silence grew heavy, the mornings so still, I found myself missing their antics and thrills.
Now I wonder, where did they roam? These mischievous friends, onto other homes. Though I complained and wished them away, I long for their presence at the break of day.
Be careful for what you wish for! After the squirrels left, a groundhog moved into my backyard – a much bigger nuisance than the squirrels ever were.
Again and again, however we know the landscape of love and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names, and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others fall: again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient tree, lie down again and again among the flowers, face to face with the sky. from Again And Again, However We Know The Landscape Of Love by Rilke
The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry’s cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I’ll put a trinket on. by Emily Dickinson – Autumn
My garden cherub beholds fall’s dramatic show of color.
Spring is upon us! Dare to do one new activity a week for the whole year starting today and see how your life will be transformed!
One lovely spring day in my childhood, I dared to give my mother the most extravagant bouquet she had ever beheld. I had a delightful time gathering daffodils and tulips from all the neighbors’ gardens in our area and beyond. So immense was the offering that I struggled to carry the jumble of flowers home without damaging any of the delicate petals. I was quivering with excitement when I extended it to her.
Regrettably, my mother’s reaction was not what I had imagined when she learned from whence the flowers had come. (My life was indeed transformed for many weeks thereafter!)
Satin & Sand 