Posts Tagged ‘life’

The business of gardening

In gardening, life, poetry, survival on June 30, 2011 at 3:22 pm

The first notion you have to give up is that everything has a right to live.

It’s not practical in the garden.

Or if  you believe it has a right to live, you have to know not all, most even, won’t make it.

This will be at your own hand.

If you are not good with this, then being a gardener will be harder on you.

It’s mostly a business of death, funny enough.


fooling the gardener

In gardening, life, survival, survival, time on September 25, 2010 at 7:36 pm

The gardener hunts the wilting.

He moves by the smooth and strong.

Shears shut.

If you are showing browned edges, frayed petals, droopiness, or loss of color

hide behind the bold and tall.

If you can manage it, turn a radiant sunburnt red.

These are ways to fool the gardener.

And keep the metal edge from your neck.

A day is a day.

In that time death could come.

found in the garden

In gardening, life, relationships, time, Uncategorized on September 18, 2010 at 3:52 pm

The gardener has lost his hand shovel with the cracked green handle.

“I put it right here.” He blames his memory, his eyes, his luck, the bushes. “Right here.”

“It will show up,” his wife says.

“Wrong! Things don’t just show up, you have to go after it, nothing comes to you.”

“Then it’s in the place it should be right now. Sit with me.”

“Stubborn,” he grunts, spreading open a resistant rosemary bush.

“Go out and get another then.”

“It fits me, we have a history.”

She makes room. “Same with us.”

He stops and sits.  “Oh, if I ever lose you…”

“I will find you.”

“Can you find my shovel?”

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.”

the gardener’s rant

In Uncategorized on September 8, 2010 at 5:34 am

I am tired of the earth’s stinking breath

I am tired of the dying

I am tired of being out-numbered by the bugs

And the waiting, I am so tired, so bored of all the months of  waiting for green

The garden is not a place for a man with any sense

Here’s my shovel and my spade, it’s rusted anyway

I’m keeping my hat.

the gardener pushes his fear into the mud

In Uncategorized on September 7, 2010 at 2:05 pm

The gardener pushes his fear into the mud

water washes up

worry slips through his fingers, sucking onto his sleeves

what he witnessed, what he did, will be buried under rocks

and flowers will trample them down with armies of color

come spring

from with to versus

In gardening, poetry, relationships, spirituality, Uncategorized on September 7, 2010 at 5:52 am

The gardener and his wife are fighting about the rules.

She won’t do anything he wants it seems.

And he thought the garden was difficult!

And she thought the house was difficult!

When did it go from with to versus?