Virgin territory

In gardening, poetry on September 13, 2010 at 4:39 am

I am lost in the garden.

I wasn’t raised on vegetables, rarely saw them on my dinner plate. On occasions when they did crowd my meat I’d send them back to wherever the Green Giant’s valley was. In college, Lois and I would go to the cafeteria for food. This continued as our life style when we married. When I was away in Australia on business, Lois had the oven removed and put a closet in it’s place, we kept the dishwasher for a file cabinet.    

When we lived in Manhattan, we’d speed-dial the hundreds of restaurants on the Upper East Side.  Faster than you can say TV dinner, the doorbell would buzz, and the kids would sing out their Pavlovian chorus, “The food man is here!”

When we moved to California, we concentrated on neighborhoods with the best schools for the kids and knew we’d be happy on the West Coast when we found a house in a cul-de-sac near the beach, with white carpet, a pool and walking distance to Jack in the Box.

I admit I am a lover of fast food. The bright plastic environments are happy and energizing; they always have big windows, all-you-can-drink sodas and I can always count on liking the chicken, burgers and fries.

Today though I am fumbling in the garden with a clumsy lover’s desire to touch mysterious places. I have a need to plant seeds, I want to grow vegetables, I am excited to taste their strangeness. I just don’t know where to start. I am having performance anxiety.

I am new in the garden. I sit down by the dirt.  “Teach me.”

  1. Lovely post! It’s true, our gardens teach us about life, and certainly not the other way around.

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