Kumquat

Five years hence, I felt a swell of joy. Anticipation. Amplification.

Five weeks in, cessation.

Five weeks more, awareness.

Five weeks further, separation.

I gathered seeds that weekend, to memorialize.

I’ve sown them each memorial weekend since.

They, as their motive, didn’t take.

Until now.

I still, mostly, don’t say.

I still, mostly, can’t stand.

So I still, mostly, let sway.

Advertisements

A first is just the start.

I think I’ve sown sunflower seeds seven different times over the past nine years. Only one of those was the first, but the seventh was another first – the first successful year.

And here we are.

Fare thee well.

Let them call you a weed. You are none such as that. They may not see your beauty, your strength, your ingenuity. I do, little purple flower. I see it. I see you. Bloom your heart out how and where you bloom best. Never you mind that gardener.

Long days, low light from high above.

The sweet corn has a tassel. The mystery tomatoes are not cherries. The yellow crook neck have tiny squash. The strawberries are in full fierce little force. There green beans are gearing up for a long season. The carrots won’t quit and the okra is gaining height. The melon has vines and the peppers have flowers. It’s been a long and lovely spring. Summer is starting.