I watch as he puts them into the car, so carefully, lovingly.
The weekly goodbye.
Then he watches as the car pulls away.
With his face buckled in pain, he follows the little heads until they are out of sight.
His beloved young children. Who love him dearly. Who did not want to say goodbye.
But such are the arrangements of grown ups.
Observed one evening a decade or more ago, under the portico of a local apartment building, while dropping off my daughter for her weekly voice lessons.
The snow that is now falling would be grand…
If I hadn’t just spent my weekend puttering and pruning in the garden beds,
If we didn’t have 200 more ACCESS Speaking tests to administer this week,
If this were late November, or January,
But I did, we do, and it isn’t.
The grayish-white vista now forming outside would be cozy and comforting…
If I hadn’t just taken my red and cobalt blue planting pots out of storage yesterday,
If we didn’t have a new unit to begin in ELA 8 this week,
If this were December, or even February,
But I did, we do, and it isn’t.
The wildlife of the back yard would be skittering about…
If I hadn’t seen the teeth and chin bone of a deceased rabbit, or squirrel, beside the driveway yesterday,
If we didn’t have a huge nocturnal opossum hiding out in our crawl space killing all the mice,
If this were a month from now, or even two,
But I did, we do, and it isn’t.
I guess I’ll just go take a nap.
Some years back, when my first gardening neighbor retired and moved to Winchester, another micro-climate away, she gifted me her much-loved gardenia and we enlisted our shared handyman to help with the transplant. At that point in time, the gardenia was several years old and she still barely fit into the two-piece green floral plant cover that was conveyed to me in the transfer. But every year, as she has grown, I have had to cobble together all manner of burlap, old grill cover, and retired shower curtain liners, minus their sheered off mildewed bottoms.
One reason I agreed to this whole adoption arrangement is that my husband grew up in Texas from sixth grade on, and he fondly remembers the pleasing aroma of his mother’s gardenia. It is not overly strong, like lilac or magnolia, yet a subtler blend of fresh, floral flavors that is not easy to describe but something glorious to inhale. I’m sorry to say that this winter may have been the gardenia’s Waterloo.
Several weeks ago, as the temperatures plunged I frocked her thoroughly, with more drapes than in prior years. During stages of the wintry mix, I cleared snow, then sleet, then ice from her outer coat, after which I waited almost two weeks for temperatures to climb back above freezing, at least in the daytime. Finally I was able to pull off the layers and invite our cloistered friend out into the sunshine. I honestly feared she’d be dead from two weeks of darkness, but this was not the case.
However, another snow event last week featured temperatures just above freezing, but a wet and heavy mix weighing down limbs for several hours. Judging from the belt of ragged, brown leaves this last bout of winter may prove to have been the knock out punch that I’ve dreaded for the past five years. Yet I know the roots are strong, and many of the leaves are still lapping up sunshine. So I can’t be sure.
This will no doubt be the year that our now-ragged gardenia gets a long-overdue haircut and styling. A proper coiffing, once her surviving blooms have had their moment on center stage. Stay tuned for an eventual update.
On Monday through Thursday nights Brian and I record The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, then watch it together the next early evening. It’s been almost a year, now, since we swore off all network evening news programs, preferring instead to consume our news through the filter of humor, or else read it on selected online sites. Such are the times we live in, now.
I have this fantasy that Colbert will take his own questionnaire, on air, before his program ends this coming May. Or that at least he might reveal to us what number he’s been thinking of each time he queries his guests. My best guess is that the number changes daily and matches the number of each new episode, or perhaps it is a countdown of the number of shows he has left before his un-renewed contract expires. In my last blog post, I took The Colbert Questionnaire myself, several days ago.
As sad as it is to realize that his current show is winding down, there is no doubt in my mind that Stephen will go on to do great things, and continue fighting fascism in a media format that is not corporate or Trump-controlled. Most of his fans would eagerly follow him almost anywhere, at this point.
Stephen, Stephen, Stephen….
What is the best sandwich?
Summer: BLT with garden fresh tomatoes; Winter: toasty cheese with bread ‘n butter pickles
What was your first concert attended?
Chuck Mangione at JMU with childhood bestie
What is the scariest animal?
Any venomous snake
Apples or oranges?
Peaches!
Have you ever asked someone for their autograph?
Not that I recall
What do you think happens when we die?
Our souls find peace and live on with those we’ve loved.
Favorite action movie?
Is Chitty Chitty Bang Bang considered an action movie?
Window or aisle?
Window for long flights; aisle for short flights
Favorite smell?
Freshly mown grass
Least favorite smell?
Burnt overflow in the oven
Cats or dogs?
Cats
You only get one song to listen to for the rest of your life. (You don’t have to listen to it continuously, but when you do go to listen to music, this is the song you hear.)
Johann Sebastian Bach St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 Stuttgart Bach Collegium with Helmuth Rilling
What number am I thinking of?
6-7
Describe the rest of your life in five words.
Retiring to garden and wander
I’m back, at least intermittently, with one eye on this year’s Hundred Day Challenge beginning in March.
The reason is twofold: I’m once again co-teaching a period of ELA 6, and I came here to read some of my old writing.
Chances are good that I will stay for a while.
Man vs. Man
Who can fill their wheelbarrow to the brim with wood-chips, first?
Has someone over-timed their turn with the wheelbarrow, or the lighter shovel?
Who gets to harvest okra, a favorite, this week?
Man vs Society
How do we enforce No Smoking and leaving your butts at the Garden’s picnic table under the magnolia trees?
How do we share our garden with with general public (friendly fences, no locked gates) without any whole watermelons or pumpkins disappearing?
Man vs. Nature
Why are the green beans so hard to locate while harvesting?
Why is a drought so difficult for gardeners? (And conversely, why are gardeners so happy for rain?!)
Which critter has been nibbling on our butternut squashes?
Man vs. Technology
Why do our irrigation hoses release less water from year to year?
Why is the spicket pressure so unpredictable?
How can we repair our trellis infrastructure without completely rebuilding it?
