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Nature’s Eternal Return

April 18, 2010

Helen

I used to call myself a gardener.  Lately, as in several years, I am more like a watcher of the weeds taking over.  Two days ago I got my fingers in the earth.  Down on my hands and knees, in the last hours of evening light, I pulled out towering obnoxious weeds, medium-sized basics and then got down to the tiny emergers.  It is at this level that my happiness jumped as I saw the insistent growth of the buffalo grass and fescue that I haphazardly planted last summer.  It lives on underneath the brazen unwanteds, a testimony to the concept that things may not be what they seem.   

 

Scott's Garden

I had dinner last night with my old friends Helen  & Scott.  I walked the 3 blocks around the corner to their house, a house in which I used to live.  My kids were little there, they played out in the garden as I kneeled down in the soil just as I had recently done.  It was an evening of wonderful conversation riddled with deep knowledge of each other’s pasts, triumph’s had and burdens born, yet we still shared news that was cutting edge in our respective lives.  Scott’s garden is a miraculous thing.  Flowers and foliage, fruit trees and garden art all sync together in a living symphony.  I had the privilege of working that garden about 20 years ago.  I thought as I sat with my dear friends in the little house that has held so much of my history,  how all the things we love and leave are not really in our past, but still there waiting for us to have the opportunity to circle back around.  I had written my 

Genavieve & Eva

first pages of fiction on this street, and there I was in that same kitchen where Genavieve stood on a stool to play in dish suds, Eva’s famous wailing wall in the adjoining room, talking about my book that I finally did write.  Just as my grasses were continuing to live on underneath a blanket of weeds, so is the thread of my life on that street and the love for my friends that I see rarely despite our close proximity.  

It is one of nature’s best gifts, the way life eternally returns, the circle growing and giving, waiting for us to step in and partake.  Now or later. 

Scott's Yellow Roses

Scott's Garden

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Helen Williams permalink
    April 20, 2010 1:46 pm

    Nice!

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