Monday, September 17, 2012

Raised Beds in a Sunken garden

April 12

Raised Beds in a Sunken Garden

This morning the lumber yard delivered boards for Bill to build four large raised beds for the garden.

April 13
Names & Dreams

Planted more seeds indoors today: rosemary, lupines, dianthus, foxglove, coriander, pink poppy, forget-me-not, achillea “The Pearl”, and thyme. As I write their names I smell the sweet scents and see the haze of pinks and purples; the perfection of a dream that is a garden of the future.

April 15
Worms & Pine Coffins

Worked on raised beds – finished – and digging. Worms, worms, worms everywhere! A worm or two in every forkful. It’s opening day of trout season. If I’d known we had so many worms I’d have put a box at the road: “Free worms for fishing”. But fishermen go out at first light – I found the worms too late. I worry that I can’t help stabbing them with the tines of my fork.

Bill said the raised beds look like coffins (what an ironic juxtaposition of words: raised and coffins). They do though. Right now they are arranged symmetrically in the lower garden - - - 4’ x 10’ boxes, each with its inner corner cut on an angle like the old pine coffins. I have considered asking to be buried in a pine box, no cement liner or silk lined casket. Why not – most likely the preponderance of coffins in the Line Cemetery are pine boxes – or were. The work of worms made easier and speedier dispersal of the molecules that were us to the soil and water and air – perhaps to heaven.

September 17,
Looking Backward: September-April

The Journal is open in front of me as I type the handwritten script. To my right, in a glaringly sunny window, is the pot of rosemary I bought in the spring. I brought her in yesterday to keep her safe from the frost we can expect any night now. I glance over, reminding myself to transplant her to a larger pot soon and find a cool window for winter survival; she’ll perish in the dry air upstairs.

The rosemary plants I grew from seed did well after a long germination period but most were smothered under the fabulous rue and sage plants by the middle of July, as were most of the seedlings in the little clay pots I placed amidst their older, taller brethren before we left for two weeks in Maine. The overabundance of the more mature plants outstripped my wildest expectations in the rich soil of the raised beds.

~ Next Excerpt ~

April 21
A Poem

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