Skip to main content

Entwined

I've come out to the greenhouse at 10:30 a.m. to admire the pole bean plants and how they endlessly seek an entwining, an interweaving. Three plants have crossed their borders and meandered over to the pots of others. No one seems to be complaining or protesting the breach.


I see also the work I need to do, and begin to lift the piles of leaves I've plucked and carelessly tossed on the floor. I've pulled these leaves because they have been scavenged by hungry creatures -- pests, I might call them, if I am without compassion for those who don't know my rules. They've left ugly holes -- displeased, I snip and toss. I don't stay with that feeling long because look at the beauty that remains. I move the pots around, directing them as if they were a choir, and I see how much stronger they are when they are gathered.

What's this? The parsley's coming up. It's the first thing that has worked in the special herb planter except for milk thistle, and I understand milk thistle will grow anywhere. I sip my lemon pribiotic tea. The kale looks good, cauliflower plants growing just fine, still drizzled with water from last night's bath. I discovered the "flower" setting on my sprinkler, and it creates a fine mist that makes the greenhouse feel like a jungle. The plants and I love it.


The gardener can't sit long... so much weeding to do, and the floor to be swept. It's a stone floor with a couple of old yoga mats for comfort. The nasturtium is coming up --- I planted that because slugs are supposed to prefer it to my cabbage plants. Several small pots I think hold beet seedlings -- I plant so much I forget what I have.

A mint green painted metal angel created by a friend named Provie Musso, years ago, has become a pot decoration to accompany me. I wonder what has become of Provie? Ah, there she is:

Provie Musso Finds Prayer and Peace

Whoops, I've spilled a pot, and soil has tumbled out. The choir of beans does not curse me or resent me for it.The angel does not withhold its affection, grumble, or give me the silent treatment. That would interfere with its healing work. I am learning much from today's sermon...

The red chair with its red cushion is the cardinal here...



(painting by Alfred Charles Weber)

and the rusty headed fellow with golden legs might be an ordained wasp. If the back row beans, the ones who ended up with the prized location in which to climb up the lattice, are gossiping among themselves, they at least have the good grace to do it with subtlety.

If you have had enough of this anthropomorphism, you might go watch the news instead... come back when you want communion.



Blessings,

Tamara

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Snow Crocus

Friends, I haven't been going out to the greenhouse much for the past few months. It's been rainy and cold, and while last year I had a working heater in there, it's a no go this year -- electrical issues. Almost everything in there was dead or dying, just like the rest of the plants in the yard, and boo hoo, it just wasn't the same. But this morning I went out there, and what did I find? Pot after pot with bulbs popping up (yes!), and yep, still a huge mess to clean up. I needed a pair of scissors to start chopping away and clearing out the dead plants, and I started heading out the door when I spotted something orange blooming. I stepped closer, looked down, and the orange snow crocus introduced itself. Crouching down, I felt the most wonderful promise of spring coming, and blessed those delicate blooms from my deepest heart.  I've never had a snow crocus before, but I've got more that should bloom soon in the kitchen, along with my beautiful red and pink tuli...

Rise of the Elephant Ears

 Friends, you wouldn't believe how tall the elephant ears are. They've risen to the height of the gazebo and are not showing any signs of slowing down. The three amigos in their bed have had several seed pods, to our delight, and now we've got baby elephant ears going nicely in the greenhouse. I admired them on my walk around the yard this morning in my ruby red belted robe, harvesting beans and green tomatoes, a cucumber, and stashing them in my pocket. Now I'm on the swing listening to "The Sound of Sunshine" as performed by the band at Jubilee Circle. Elephant ears love the sunshine --- we just have to keep the water coming to the roots, stand by and let them spread outward and upward. This photo is from earlier in the summer, and you can see the seed pods. Having never had any before, I didn't know how the process worked --- the pod becomes a pale yellow bloom, and only when the bloom dies do the berry-like seeds emerge, looking like corn on the cob, o...

A Mercy Emanating

  The House at Night with Palmetto The other night, I made my way out to the pool while David had a friend over to watch a game. The dogs trailed along, of course, and we sat at the edge. I put my feet in. They watched over me, anxious for me to get in the water and equally anxious that I should not. I felt the same -- it's still too cold in April. I prefer the warm bathwater of July and August, when I can get in without the shiver or sharp intake of breath. It's been a long time since I got in the water, and a longer time since I wrote in this blog, but the whole time the palmetto has been growing taller, and the sky has waited for me.  For the past three years, I have been the president of the Poetry Society of South Carolina, and it has taken a great deal of my time. At first I was a whirlwind, riding the streets and acting as advocate for the society and for poetry itself. Year two, I slowed down a bit, and last year, I really felt myself coming to an end of it. I'm gra...