Green
When our winter refused to budge and fairly defy my hopes for warmer weather, I planned an invasion. A beach head, if you will.
I prepared the soil, marked the territory, and waited for the ground to thaw and surrender the first opportunity to marry loam and seed.
I wanted green. An explosion of verdancy I find, for some hilariously amnesiac reason, new and New every time it happens.
I’ve decided Winter and Spring play this game, cyclically, every trip around the Sun…because Death and Life are immutably threaded into the Son. There is so much beauty in this cycle and I love and hate it all at the same time.
And it’s giving myself over to the patterns and the cycle, the give and take…the surrender and the relinquishing, the triumph and the ruin…
…that I love forgetting that I remember.
The garden is overflowing. It is in no way obeying the lines I intended and when I’m in it weeding, talking to them all (and I do), I’m saying things like, “I told you both to leave each other alone, didn’t I?” Because they can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves and I’ve had it Up To Here with having to clean things up because they can’t seem to puzzle out cleaning up their areas. (Read: they grow so thick that I have to get on my hands and knees to find the weeds that have grown unchecked.) (Read: I have no life.)
For the next few days I’m going to post a few pictures of what’s been happening. And of what remains to happen. Starting with this blazing Prospertiy: a squash blossom.
Here’s to Summer’s Final Act, as Carl in New Jersey called it (and he’d know).
Such a bounteous, riotous photo!
Here’s to those who don’t abandon their gardens in midsummer (like I tend to do).
Good work.