I read this excerpt from a poem on Tuesday on a bus ride around town. It seems especially fitting now.
From Walt Whitman's What Is the Grass
What do you think has become of the young and old
And what do you think has become of the women and
They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, and
if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed,
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
The garden it grows.
Pretty much every moment of freedom at the house something gets put in or expanded or trimmed and last but not least harvested. Forget cleaning, it's summertime.
Suddenly there is a hanging planter of thyme and there are two groups of mint plants, three tomato plants (two are recently salvaged and may or may not make it), a rosemary plant, a whole bunch of Thai basil, and a super prolific zucchini squash plant. Mustard greens are coming up, mixed green seeds are in the ground, carrots grow stronger every day. The remaining blackberry bush is producing some delicious fruits. The yard is a mess but a blessing too.
Found some bulbs in a free pile yesterday. Don't know if they're viable but figured it was worth a try. Those are in the ground. A beautiful Hydrangea plant is mine now and I refuse to share. It'll go in the ground soon- maybe Friday evening if not today after my run.
Fiona Apple concert on Thursday. Can't wait.
Summer dinner involving the torte, some watermelon, and perhaps a blackberry concoction if we get that ambitious for pre-concert dinner.
Grapes! They're growing in my backyard unbidden.
Poetry and learning to read it.
And, it's back to the work week for me today but the night involves Christmas in July and the day a run. So, I can't even begin to complain.
Nothing but the very best to all of you sweet things.