Returning the rocks to the ocean

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 10, 2010 at 3:16 am

All the early morning trips to the beach collecting rocks, hauling canvas bags of them up the bouldery hill to the station wagon, knowing I was stealing from the planet, worried about getting caught by the rock police. Unloading the thousands of pounds of ‘smoothies,’ ‘craggies,’ ‘striped ones’ and ‘faces’ and placing them around the house creating a dried riverbed in front, where the Home Owners Association prescribes  a choice of 3 standard lawn grasses. Singing in my head, happy at the importance of this act of creation and defiance. So bold as to not to heed my wife’s warnings about my back, or my back’s throbbing agreement. My teeth gripped down, locking back groans.

Three years later here I am, doing the same thing, only in reverse, digging the rocks up from where I so caringly placed each,  filling up the same misshapen bags, bringing the rocks back to their beach home. A suburban performance of Myth of Sisyphus.

I’m going to create and tend to a fruit and vegetable garden. Along with the rocks, which I’m certain have multiplied since their planting, I’m uprooting the plants and flowers whose names I don’t know from this 6 x 21 foot raised bed area in the North West part of our backyard.

I have big plans for cucumber, tomatoes, zucchini, lettuce and onions.

I’m worrying about irrigation, mulch, nutrients, organics.

This should change my life, don’tcha think. 




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