Oddments

In search of story


4 Comments

Connections: August 15.17

Rejoice with me, dear reader,

and witness victory:

I’ve grown actual tomatoes

I’m chuffed and filled with glee!

When I walk through a nursery

the tomatoes run and hide

they know my reputation

for black-thumbed tomatocide.

An occasional single fruit

a miser’s salad plate

was the most I’ve ever gleaned

or could anticipate.

But, lo, a red ripe miracle

such glories on the vines!

I’ve danced the gardener’s jig

and changed my name to Heinz.

 

 

Connections

 


4 Comments

Connections: July 24.17

Maybe you remember

my Christmas tree mishap

when it toppled over

and flattened carpet nap.

Family ingenuity

perhaps aesthetics-free

brought it back to standing

with pragmaticality.

And now my poor tomato

bowed by wind and rain

lists like my old tree

risking break and sprain.

So whether Yule tradition

or heavy-laden vine

when the question comes from listing

the answer comes from twine.

 

 

 

 

Connections


2 Comments

Connections: July 14.17

It’s an earthen air

sagging over the dawn

musty

sweating on the lawn

popping with toadstools

and yesterday’s rain sits still

gathering the scent of soil

and a nameless farmer’s till

ghosts of crops past

rain-wafted now

old farms unburied

by summer storm plow

smells of wet summer

airy thick soup

fragrant toothsome

morning droop.

 

Connections

 


8 Comments

Connections: June 9.17

  As you know, dear reader, I am trying to ready my house for selling.

I’ve been packing, hauling, sweating, heaving, sorting, tossing,

stressed, sleepless, harried and hassled,

weary, bruised, and cross.

It’s been a long dark tunnel with a tiny light at the end.

My son called. Also a gardener.

They have so many plants left over from the plant sale —

he’s planted all he can —

would I take some?

If you are a gardener, you heard my gasp.

Wasted plants? All those cramped roots longing to stretch?

Gardeners are irrational

so I said sure.

I have so much to do and am so close to being ready to list

but I said sure.

And we had some perfect June days.

I sank my knuckles into the dirt

brushed up against the tomato leaves as much as possible

cooed over the poor cramped marigolds

fussed over the red onions

introduced the new jalapeno to old-timer daylily

pictured the banana peppers next the cherry tomatoes come August

basked in the brief respite from the world’s chaos

and my own

and now have the prettiest little kitchen garden you ever saw.

Planted

— go figure —

for someone else.

 

 

 

Connections