on the threshold

I am becoming a gardener. To be honest, I have to admit that all the progress so far has been made by Tim who is more tired than a three year old after swimming lessons. He spent all day Sunday with a tiller, a shovel, and a drawing that I have been mulling over for years. A gardener: that’s going to be me, but until this weekend I was like a biker without a bike, a cook without a kitchen, an astronomer without a telescope. I was a gardener with a whole lot of grass to cut and almost none to dig in. 

I love flowers. I putter. I crave sunshine – I am going to be so good at this. I pour over garden magazines, I bombard my mom with questions about her backyard, and I keep a notebook full of ideas that will all become the inspiration for what soon will be a garden of my own. So my efforts to “take back my life” continue with a project that has been in the works since Anna Mae was born. Last year I had just begun to make some progress but was cut off when I was put on the beginning of “pregnancy restrictions.” At this point my yard is still very much on the cusp of something yet to come — flower beds edged and tilled and ready to become. 

The English Poet Alfred Austin said, “Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.” Should he see my garden today, what would he say I am? Perhaps he would see an artist with a new canvas – ready to begin – on the verge of something – in transition- always in the works. It is a good place to be– on the brink of becoming something better. And while I walk along the empty beds tonight I happily imagine just what that will be…