art
August 2007 
garden
Posted on Jun 6th, 2006
by 
antenna
antenna
I have a garden. It is in no way formal beyond the 4 squares of the raised beds for vegetables and annual flowers. Otherwise, it's a bit of a ramble.
It slides along the house, and pools in the back, softening the leaning tower of garage that won't fall down, maybe even propping it up, I don't know.
I tended my garden faithfully for years and in the last two, I had to leave it to its own devices. It waited patiently, knowing better than I did that I would be back. Now I reaquaint myself with the fragrant moss, the woody stems, the stony ground, the enthusiasm of weeds.
The first neglectful summer, I started a new job at the museum where I work now. After 10 years of working from home, I was mesmerized by my destination when I left the house each day. I came home and sat in the porch swing, drinking in a Corona, and the stories of my children's day. My garden was left to fend for itself. For the first time in 20 years, I didn't grow tomatoes. I wondered, if like my children's babyhood, gardening was merely a sweet chapter in a much larger life. I was wistful, but each morning eagerly offered myself fully to my job, not even looking back at the lilacs who wished me well as I strode off to the museum.
The next neglectful summer, I was sick. My life was a whirlwind of testing, hospitalization, and recovery. The stargazer lilies and roses and monarda bloomed outside my window, rooting me on as I healed, reminding me with their scent how sweet life can be.
This year I am gardening. My friend looked up from her task recently and said, "Yes, we SHOULD garden. We know how good it is for us." I was glad to be reminded, happy to prioritize this work I've put off for too long.
Yesterday, I did the tango with the blackberry brambles, twisting and turning to free up the tangled masses. Jesse and I planted pumpkins and rubbed morning glory seeds out of their pods to soak overnight. I thanked the accomodating weeds, who kept my plants company in my absence, without overcoming them. I relieved them of their duties and wished them well. The one that took over a patio pot last year and bloomed brilliant violet, I kept.
I'm back, happily keeping the company of plants.
It slides along the house, and pools in the back, softening the leaning tower of garage that won't fall down, maybe even propping it up, I don't know.
I tended my garden faithfully for years and in the last two, I had to leave it to its own devices. It waited patiently, knowing better than I did that I would be back. Now I reaquaint myself with the fragrant moss, the woody stems, the stony ground, the enthusiasm of weeds.
The first neglectful summer, I started a new job at the museum where I work now. After 10 years of working from home, I was mesmerized by my destination when I left the house each day. I came home and sat in the porch swing, drinking in a Corona, and the stories of my children's day. My garden was left to fend for itself. For the first time in 20 years, I didn't grow tomatoes. I wondered, if like my children's babyhood, gardening was merely a sweet chapter in a much larger life. I was wistful, but each morning eagerly offered myself fully to my job, not even looking back at the lilacs who wished me well as I strode off to the museum.
The next neglectful summer, I was sick. My life was a whirlwind of testing, hospitalization, and recovery. The stargazer lilies and roses and monarda bloomed outside my window, rooting me on as I healed, reminding me with their scent how sweet life can be.
This year I am gardening. My friend looked up from her task recently and said, "Yes, we SHOULD garden. We know how good it is for us." I was glad to be reminded, happy to prioritize this work I've put off for too long.
Yesterday, I did the tango with the blackberry brambles, twisting and turning to free up the tangled masses. Jesse and I planted pumpkins and rubbed morning glory seeds out of their pods to soak overnight. I thanked the accomodating weeds, who kept my plants company in my absence, without overcoming them. I relieved them of their duties and wished them well. The one that took over a patio pot last year and bloomed brilliant violet, I kept.
I'm back, happily keeping the company of plants.
Access: Public
I love this. What a lovely post. I long to garden like this, but have never been stable enough to bring it into being. Someday. I do have wildflowers and sunflowers and 3 tomato and 3 pepper plants planted. So, actually, almost.
Hi, Eve,
Nice to hear from you! Sounds like you are on your way gardeningly speaking. I started out with 3 tomatoes in 5 gallon buckets on the fire escape about 20 years ago.
I'd love to hear about your wildflowers….