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Bird's Blog

Poetry, musings, observations, commentary, rants, confessions...and who knows what else!

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Location: San Francisco Bay Area

Teacher, writer, poet, grandmother, lover, wine-drinker, chocolate eater, beach comber, hiker, traveler, Giants fan, San Franciscan. All work on this blog is copyrighted material.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

A Lost Garden

She used to plant over 500 gladiola bulbs in her back garden every spring. Glory Red. Trumpet Orange. Wedding White. Passion Pink. Summer Yellow. Some bulbs she planted in clusters of color and when the glads rose up on their slender yet sturdy, green stalks and unfurled their flowers, the garden was arrayed with swathes of red, orange, white, pink, yellow. But most of the bulbs she mixed up together in a bag, and as she planted, drew bulbs at random. She would plant 20 bulbs a day over a few weeks, and so the flowers bloomed steadily throughout the summer; the garden wealthy with color and joy.

But she does not plant gladiolus any more.

There was a time when she laid on her back with her children on the green grass in the yard, and looked up at the apple tree as it bloomed, watched as its delicate white flowers turned into green, hard fruit that later ripened and dropped down to their waiting hands.

But she no longer whiles away the time under the apple tree. And the fruit lies rotting upon the ground.

She always planted seeds on Good Friday, poking the rich brown earth with her fingers, whispering secret words over the seeds as she thought of renewal and homecoming.

But no seeds fall from her hands to the earth below now.

Not so long ago, she tended terra cotta pots of daffodils and blue ceramic pots of narcissus that lined the front walkway every February. Later, she would use the pots for silver sage and white lobelia.

But now the walkway is lined with shards of red as dark as old blood and a blue that is faded and weary, and no one walks up the path any more.

12 Comments:

Blogger K9 said...

/bark bark bark

bird, this some sorrowful garden tales over here. first the rosemary now the bulbs and shards of blood red? this would be better addressed by Freya. mostly i came by to say warp on and i missed ya!! and yeah we know not all teachers are uncle ernies. grrrrrrrrrrrrrl, please!

hey alison, you okay? worried about those hurricanes gettin' you!

/grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

March 22, 2006 9:24 AM  
Blogger Pete Bogs said...

for some reason this makes me think of the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman...

k9 - I think Ali is on the southern coast of Oz...

March 22, 2006 10:30 AM  
Blogger Jack K. said...

You obviously write from the heart. I know that it touches mine. There is a place for melancholy in all of our lives. It helps us to keep in touch with our humanness. Thanks for sharing your wonderful writing. I always look forward to your postings.

btw. did you happen to catch Boston Legal last night? One of the story lines had to do with erotica. They demonstrated a machine called an hysteria machine. It happened in a court room and it was hilarious.

You can google the term and read about Laura's experience.

March 22, 2006 1:04 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

hallo vogel.

K9 say for me to come to you he cannot maak post on this sorrowful garden of bloemen and pieces of shard.
ik denk is irony for dames geest, her spirit, to die in very place where leven et beauty is always counted upon. even if there is sneeuw and ijs the spring does come again, and though they pale green shoots tender at first they to be sterk again someday met those gladiola stalkes so straight and lang you remembering.

each day the zon come and destroy the nacht. even if the nacht was so zwart it cannot best the zon for the licht is more power than anything in the werld! but every hond can choose to not see the zon too. slecht iets happen, ja, but ik hoop the dame not to let it be triumph against her chance for happiness. for that way that terrible ding get the best of her again and again and again.

lay again under the appel bloems and let they petals fall so gently to cover de littekens. maak a pact met the light vogel. ik verzend u zo vele zegen op deze dag.

vaarwell var nu, freya

March 23, 2006 8:13 AM  
Blogger ffff said...

Beautiful Bird. No wonder you are an English teacher.

I am on the 'Mid North Coast' of NSW so we are getting the tail end of the rain depression that has flattened the towns of Innisfail and Tully in Northern Queensland. So sad.
Thanks for asking!

March 23, 2006 3:26 PM  
Blogger Aunty Belle said...

Hey there, Bird Beauty, lovely reflection....I loves gardens too (come see the Front Porch post of the moment--they's flower and a garden from near your own back door on display.)

Will you tell us why she ain't a growin' at the momment?

ANd youse so right--all teachers are NOT predators...most are dedicated and underappreciated. Sigh.

Fly on, jewel of the air, fly on,

Aunty Belle

March 24, 2006 8:20 AM  
Blogger Mr Q said...

Written memories are a beautiful way to embed our loved ones in eternity. Thanks for delivering peace.

March 24, 2006 8:29 AM  
Blogger Jack K. said...

I left you a comment at Alison's divorce posting.

March 25, 2006 5:18 AM  
Blogger K9 said...

/bark bark bark

it's none of my business boyed, but if someone needs a good rotty thrashing just point me in the right direction.

/grrrrrrrrrrrr

March 25, 2006 5:44 AM  
Blogger disguised said...

The seeds the gardener leaves are just not visible....like fairy dust they follow the ether into the ears of her waiting students, the little violets, just waiting for the sun to warm them and allow them to grow.

May the sun warm you soon, my dear.

March 25, 2006 2:32 PM  
Blogger Bird said...

my thanks for the comments, well-wishes, and concerns.

to clarify - yes, the post is somewhat autobiographical. i have been in a melancholy reflective state of late.

i do so appreciate the insightful and compassionate responses.

i wait for the rain to stop so i can walk on the beach and sweep these sorrowful bloemen dreams from my mind.

March 25, 2006 10:37 PM  
Blogger Jack K. said...

That, too, shall come. I suspect a reflective melancholy is in order to assist in maintaining your balance. You will find the garden again and it will be the more beautiful in your remembrance.

May peace and love be with you.

March 26, 2006 4:23 AM  

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