The Garden

What a gift the garden is to me. Each spring, I take time to work the fertile ground where I will plant the seeds for what is sure to be the very best garden I've ever grown.

This year will be no different. Despite an extreme drought, my garden was planted in the Spring and is thriving now. My husband and I installed the drip irrigation system conserving water while allowing all my veggies to grow thick and lush.

After feeding my beloved birds early each morning, I enter the thick ivy-covered archway to my garden. The delicate fairy wind chime hanging, from the center of the arch brushes against the top of my head, tinkling, letting the creatures in the garden know of my arrival.

Mama wren scurries away from the citrus tree to hide in the shadows of the ivy, keeping watch over me. The woodpecker takes flight and land above me in the redwood tree, squawking his displeasure at my early arrival.

When I step through this ivy-covered portal, I am suddenly seven years old. Mama wanted a garden, so Daddy worked up the ground near the clothesline. Mama had packets of seeds, and placing them on the kitchen table, she said that my two younger siblings and I could choose which veggies we wanted to plant. "But you have to take care of them," Mama said. "Make sure they get water and pull any weeds that may grow."

I selected yellow squash and beets. The vibrant colors of butter yellow and burgundy red depicted on the seed packets immediately caught my eye. After I had carefully poked holes in the soil, I gently placed the seeds inside, whispering encouraging words to them to grow, without weeds, please, I added. And grow they did. Every morning as soon as the sun came up, I ran out to see what magic may have occurred during the night. The morning the first tender green shoots poked their heads through, seeking the sunlight was so exciting. I couldn't begin to imagine what these plants would look like.

I was diligent in weeding and watering, and then the squash started to grow! First dark yellow flowers with pale green centers blossomed, and the blossoms became squash. Wow. For a seven-year-old, that was incredible magic. And now, at seventy, it is still unbelievable magic.

We only had the garden for two seasons. Mama didn't like having it so close to her clothesline. Every time the wind blew, which was daily in the summer, her wash would get dirty, and she would complain about it to Daddy. He'd smile and not say a word. I wonder now if it was a passive-aggressive move on his part, and I smile.

Eager to see what I might discover this morning. My curiosity and wonder are boundless. What I find are dozens of miniature pumpkins ready for harvest.

My goodness, the girls up the road will love these, I think to myself. Heck, I love these! I chuckle as I begin to harvest these beauties. Pale yellow, green and gold stripes, some have gotten much larger than the palm of my hand. I am in awe.

Turning to the squash, I find more treasures. Tomatoes that have begun to ripen have large gaping holes from some thirsty birds. Despite the freshwater I give the birds daily, they prefer sipping the juice from tomatoes. Ah well, I should have put the netting up before now.

My bare arms are now burning from the sting of the prickly pumpkin vines, and I realize that I hadn't bothered to wear my snake boots this morning; it is, after all, rattlesnake season, but I honestly don't care. I'm in the garden.