Tuesday, August 10, 2010

memoir of a dilettante gardener

gardens and gardeners,
like all living
beings age and change.

why wouldn’t they?

the passage of time brings about this,

slowly, creepingly, and almost always takes one by surprise.


when i looked in my full length mirror,

oh, rather, tootsie’s mirror housed in my cafe,
on my way to my shoppe and studio,

i caught a glimpse of a woman,

who must have had her share of passage of time in her life,

and i realize in amazement that it’s me.

when i was young
(i am still young now, i pretend and would want to believe),

i always rebelled against the idea

that a good thing also has to end.

how could it?

and when i got myself into gardening,

it became quite clear,

because in a garden,

change is nature’s way of managing it all

– animals, vegetables, flowers, trees.

the sands of the desert shift, and mountains erode.

everything changes, and somehow or other it all works.

it’s hard to say whether a garden is a metaphor for life

or the other way around.

certainly, each phase of my life

has been clearly reflected not only in my mirror

but also through the windows of my soul

that give me a glimpse of my garden, that is,

my life.