My Garden   2 comments

Crazy the way the garden of life grows. And how, when you stop tending, it can sprout up and out with the most unusual of blossoms and weeds. Still, no matter how deep into the tangle you may find yourself, the old tools of the trade remain viable and you are merely an afternoon’s worth of work away from making sense of it all again.

Yes, metaphors work in most cases. Now try this.

After rains and harsh winters and the kind of heat waves that can destroy the fertility of the hardiest of crops has punished you. After you have turned your back on the entire yard, instead opting for artificial indoors and the manicured lawns of others through windows and via crafty word play found in the landscapes of books and religion. When you come back to your garden, energized by the beauty and peacefulness of other’s hard work and of your own imagining; what if instead of wanting to snip and prune and tug and turn you merely find yourself staring at the soil, for the first time seeing the unsung beauty of the dirt and bit of stone that allowed it all to happen in the first place?

What if you decide gardens no longer adequately and sufficiently explain who you are? What if now your world is summed up best by a cemetery?

Where do you allow yourself to shop for seed?


2 responses to “My Garden

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  1. Pingback: Landscaping An American Pass Time at

  2. Pingback: Gardens- The Gift of Fathers to Sons « Letters from the Woods and Fields

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