In search of story

September 3.21: Coping


We were green once,

in salad days,

fixed firm to umbilical vine,

slowly orange,

until, soaked in sun brine,

we plumped to red.

All as written by some sightless scribe

ordaining how life seeds,

or maybe

by some deliberate kindness

in back yard dirt

that soul and body feeds.

Gardeners wonder.



With thanks to Shakespeare

and to my firstborn, Dennis, the backyard gardener.


10 thoughts on “September 3.21: Coping

  1. Tell Dennis I’m impressed. I don’t see any blight there. I sure can’t say the same. 🙂 Mine are about done, but they’ve performed well in this crazy weather we’ve had. I think they’ll get pulled out the end of the weekend. I know everyone loves fall, but to a gardener it’s kind of sad. Although, it’s like the circle of life. Hope you have a good weekend, friend. We did our errands early this morning and will hang close to home while the tourists flock in.

    • I will pass the word along — thanks! I am a little jealous of his harvest this year but most enthusiastic about sharing it! I too have started to pull up and cut back and with a little melancholy; gardeners can’t help it. I can’t say that tourists flock to central Indiana, but I’m sticking close to home anyway. I just made some pickles and they look pretty good, so maybe more pickle-making this weekend. Maybe crumb cake…

      A good weekend to you too, friend!

  2. Nicely done. Cheers to the home gardeners.

  3. As someone who loves tomatoes, how could I fail to be delighted by this, Maureen? 😀
    I remember standing in my Granny’s garden as a little girl. I picked a tomato and the juice ran down my arm as I stood there and ate it.
    Happy September. Hugs on the wing.

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