Into gardening again, finally, after a four year hiatus.
Anxious about the sunflowers and the Cinderella pumpkins
I planted, certain that the family of five thieving squirrels
that inhabit my yard will sniff them out. Barely a square inch
of space for pumpkins, so I intend to let them tumble out
over the cracked concrete patio. The grapes are in bloom,
in multitudes. The kiwi that succumbed to some kind of
inner-stem rot last summer is now more vigorous than ever
with its red-furred branches and tendrils. And the useless apples
with their apple maggots. I refuse poison. Ornamental apples,
I guess. Perhaps not entirely useless. Beautiful Apples.
Four years ago I would have known the latin name
of almost every plant in the garden, but so much has
exited my brain and feels lost forever. The brain-haze
which for a long time seemed would never clear
has finally burned off. Clarity of thought is an extraordinary gift,
one which I shall never again take for granted.