Friday, May 01, 2020


Of all my good intentions, going into the Season of Staying Home, I have enjoyed the garden the most. I thought I would crochet and paint, I knew there would be cooking, I have not sewn, nor embroidered. If my photos are any indication, it's flowers, and seedlings, leaves, petals, soil, salads, and herbs that give me focus, keep me grounded. I want to grow more, so I can share more. I want to stand barefoot on cool, damp ground. I am reading about companion gardening, about tinctures, ointments, botanical oil infusions, freezer jam, pickles. I stare at flowers.

These are strange days. Enough said. I stare at flowers, and thank every star and petal, because carnations, roses, calendula, oregano, cilantro, chard and peas, tiny sprouts, and big hopes, and willing things to grow, to thrive. How long will this last? My brain is addled by the questions we cannot answer, and by the hate, the greed, the conspiracists and willfully ignorant that exacerbate and protract the suffering. There, I said more.

Of all my good intentions, of all that is needed, required, neglected, abandoned, or still accomplished... staring at flowers is my achievement. Naming flowers, counting squash, saving seeds, tracing the outline of a blueberry keeps me grounded, or is it buoyed?

I've let the carrots go to seed. I say that as though it's comparable to releasing doves, freeing a wild thing, setting off fire works. I've let the carrots go to seed, and the flowers take me to long highways through farm land, where Queen Anne's Lace borders cornfields, and at dusk we see fireflies. Flower heads, rosy with fairy tale whimsy, mouse sized parasols, abuzz with the most fanciful wishes, daydreams, hopes.

I count the blueberries, and harvest squash, dry herbs, and hope. The flowers keep my spirits afloat. My lack of knowledge, together with my curiosity give me purpose. There is more to learn, more to do, more to grow. My imagination offers relief... from fear, from frustration, from longing.

Good things are better shared, and all of my affection and relief, all of my pleasure in the garden would not be so dear if I could not give some of it away, reveal its beauty, pass along seeds, learn from you, make a dinner, deliver my care and affection, to you... in seedlings and blossoms, in earth and sun, and imagination, with my very best intentions, and love.