Weed Garden

 

I love my weed garden (there is not a single cannabis plant to be found).  I am the only human in the house that shares this sentiment.

Over the years I have planted trees, shrubs, annuals and perennials around the house and throughout the yard.  Digging here is much like anywhere in Georgia; there is red clay and there are rocks, rocks of every size, shape and mineral imaginable.  The rocks went into a pile; I called it, my pile of rocks.

On one particularly hot summer day, four years ago, I envisioned a rustic rock wall, along the culvert that made an eight foot deep cut into the little hill that is my back yard.  The culvert runs for about a hundred feet before sliding into the five foot diameter drainage pipe beneath the lane.

It was an ambitious plan and after careful thought and a chilled beverage, I scaled back my vision of a wall to about twelve feet.  Even so, it was still a lot of rocks to move.

As happens with many of my visions, things changed.  The wall I envisioned moved from the top of the hill; I carved instead into the bank and stacked the stones.

Just beyond the top of the wall was every imaginable natural, wild growth to be found in Georgia.  One year the rains carried blackberries, blackberries that grew in grand proliferation; to the delight of the neighbor’s children as they approached the brambles with buckets and visions of jams and pies.  The storms came and as storms are want to do, they brought change; the blackberries were soon replaced with fragrant honeysuckle (and poison oak, not the best year).

It was that year of the ‘fragrant itch’, in late spring the wall evolved, into a garden.  The pile of rocks all but disappeared and became three small, terraced sections, bordered by rough stone walls.  Taken as a whole, the garden was shaped like a leaf.

I turned the earth, that wonderful Georgia red clay, and added fresh soil and turned it again.  I planted… wild flowers. In a few short weeks, tall, gangly green plants had pushed through the soil and raised their heads of yellow, orange, blue and red to the summer sky; and then the fun started.  Bumble bees from three counties took up residence, along with a host of butterflies and by early July, the humming birds.

I took to having my morning coffee; sitting on the wet grass beside the garden, the new inhabitants took little or no notice of me even the feral gerbils that had burrowed their way in (chipmunks).

Today, once again, the SWMBO, informed me that the garden, like my unkempt hair was “unbecoming” and had to go.  One is going all too fast on its own, the other…not by my hand, if however she wished to disassemble it…

As it is every Spring Season, the garden is overrun with weeds and leaves from the old sycamore that had at last surrendered to the assaults of wind and lightening.  Vines of various types had worked their way up from the culvert and through the cracks in the wall; some moved the stone in sections and that part of the wall would be redone and others anchored the stones in place, like a living thing.

Familiar earth, rich and black, turning easily, as a familiar shovel blade cut into it, weeds give up their hold, for a season.  Soon I’ll sit quietly in the grass and listen to the sweet music from my little weed garden.  And I’ll smile, a lot.

Peace out, pilgrimsImageImageImage

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Published by

MW Moore

I am surrounded by books with great, even heroic quotes, grand philosophies and theologies, mysteries and wonderments. I've never met an author of any. Oh what a finer person I would be if I had raised my voice above the pounding of the sea with Cicero, walked with Saul on that road to Damascus and on and on and on. Well, I didn't. But I've met some pretty swell people that had something to say...and they're all related to me; they're My Family Jewels.

10 thoughts on “Weed Garden”

  1. Sometimes it does not matter WHAT the current status of something is – or even what it portrays to others (especially what it portrays to others!) it is about the relationship you have with it that matters. Appreciating things/people/ nature for its natural development and progression and ability to adapt and change and still bring joy is a trait not many have? It is an unfolding and it is the journey? It is amazing how many people just look at everything at face value? It is so frustrating and yet – it really can just bring a smile in our understanding 😉
    I loved reading this – thanks for sharing MW

        1. To be honest, I have been better. The only good times have been when I’ve managed to slip away and spend time in the “garden”.
          I’ve a post going out tonight, early in the morning, may tell you a bit about it.
          I’m fumbling through editing my video…for good or ill it goes out Monday morning.
          Iguess I cold sum it up as I’ve been ice cream deprived.

          1. That’s horseshitty MW –
            Glad to hear about the video though!! I was telling my teen daughter about your goal and your dream – we are waiting for the stories right 😀
            Life does so change doesn’t it?
            We have to find our tiny places to find our Joy and mechanisms to keep doing whatever we have to be doing.

            Being deprived of icecream is never a very good thing. I can relate somehow. (long story right there- but different to yours I am certain)

    1. Thanks for the comment, fuel to keep me going at this for a bit longer.
      I haven’t had the pleasure of reading, Old Henry, but I shall.
      Have a grand day. peace

      1. well I was thinking about doing a post about it late this week (that is how much I love that little gem) and well, I will come back and leave a comment when I do. Hope you have a grand day too – and thanks for the laugh with the “optorectolitis” O_o 😉

  2. Very fun. I so commiserate. I have gotten so overwhelmed by the yard I told God one year that I would receive any plant He wanted to plant in my garden as long as He kept it alive. That worked for a short time now I am needing to take back my yard! Lol

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