The cherry tree is in bloom, the azalea, too. You can't make them out in these photos, but in the distance, beyond the yellow chairs, near the barrel, are a spade, a rake, a hoe. I'm not going to touch them! The weather is too soft and mild to work. Have you ever come upon your life and been surprised? I'm startled when I go into the garden and see the results of years of planting or when I open a drawer filled with things I had forgotten. Less interesting are those automatic recollections and associations. If I eat sturdy lettuce, like Romaine, I almost always remember an aunt who would condemn all vegetables that had substance with the word, "Tough!" How dull: these automatic recollections that never change. Surprises, involuntary memories are better--the shock of seeing a tree you planted twenty years ago come into full flower, beyond you; a sudden memory of being caught in a storm, waiting it out in a car under a bridge, that black rain-slicked car, the beloved people with you, the smell of that long ago rain.
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ReplyDeleteNice garden, Miriam. If I click on your pictures, they enlarge with great detail. So big, in fact, that to see ever marvelous thing I have to scroll around.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Bluedog. I didn't realize the pictures were "live"--still new to uploading/downloading. More details to come.
ReplyDeleteMim, the shock of encountering oneself in the other (the cherry tree?), yes. Your tree is beautiful - I had to cut mine down this year, so appreciate it all the more.
ReplyDeleteYes, Signs, encountering oneself in the other, yet the tree, or whatever it is, exists beyond us. I sometimes feel this way when on a quiet day--no radio, no TV, silent phone, enough light not to have to turn on a lamp--I walk into my study and see the evidence of my life. The present cherry tree is the second. The first came down in a snow storm. I wonder if you'll plant another.
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