The Nursery

daily haiku

plants spawn their seedlings
a little nurturing touch
then leave to nature

I had a place in the garden where not much was growing. It was a place where our underground fuel tank was once located. We had to have it removed because of Government rules and regs. It is fairly dry and weedy but it has found a niche, as a nursery of sorts, for growing new plants. Each fall I cut the dead heads from the few flowers that survive here despite the heat and drought, and throw them on the ground in the nursery. This year with plentiful rain I have a nice selection of Meadow Sage, Yarrows and Gaillardias to transplant into the flower beds

I identify with the nursery in many ways. A year ago I lost Peter; although I knew I would survive, I had no idea that I would have to face so many crises and need to learn so many skills to survive living in this beautiful place. When I was widowed at thirty years, I was able to adapt a lot faster. The house was relatively new having been moved here in 1955, so all the equipment functioned and the cost of furnace fuel was somewhere around 40c a gallon! Close to the end of my sixtieth decade I am not as fast or as fit neither is the house! I was thrown into the nursery of life and left to grow. I am grateful that I have been given so much nurture by friends and family, I would not have made it this far without them, but in the end you face the grief and regrowth alone.

As I triumph over each crisis, a flower bud grows in me, and now I feel like I am almost a new plant. The same stock that brought me to this place is there, but my roots and stem have had to change and adapt to survive the storms. With each new task I undertake comes a new awareness of myself and appreciation of each little accomplishment.

I do not know whether I will stay in our little town, but I plan to stay another winter, go dormant as it were, and see whether I can flower again next spring.