There is an omni-present root, the yellow-orange color of bailing twine, running under my yard and garden. I have uncovered it so many times, I have named it: Audrey. The root running through my life is named Beginnings: 17 homes in four states, two long-term relationships, graduate school at 40, and too many jobs to count. The circumstances leading to the beginnings have not always been in my control. On the cusp of my 58th birthday, I am choosing to look in new places to open my world up.
Three years ago, on my own, I purchased a fully-renovated, 58-year-old, not-so-big house with over-grown, neglected gardens. Given little to do inside the house, other than put color to the beige walls, I have fallen in love with restoring the gardens to their former glory. As I learn about being a gardener and become aware of what is happening there, I learn about life. The passion for gardening is new. I recognized a passion for writing several years ago, but took it only as far as wishing I were a writer. The truth is, I have discovered in my maturity, we are what we do; and we can do what we are, no matter when we begin. I am a gardener because I garden; I am a writer because I write.
May Sarton, writer of poetry, journals, and novels, said, "a poem is primarily a dialogue with the self and the novel a dialogue with others." Perhaps the journal spans the gap. I write to understand myself, and I share it with you in the hope that it will spark you to engage in a dialogue with yourself and with others; and to join me in living with courage, with inner integrity, and with an open spirit.
And so I begin this journal of my view from the garden.
2 comments:
The omni-present orange root is my remembrance of NC gardening. It wrapped into the soil like soil wraps into soul.
Yes, the soil does do that. The root grounds the soil, the soil grounds the soul.
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