Dreams of gardens

make that garden grow



She missed the garden; her haven; her refuge. There, she had sung songs to herself, quietly encouraging the seeds she set down in the dark earth to grow. There, with dirty fingernails, smudged face, and smile, she could feel at peace. No negative thoughts, no fears or forebodings. Just the smell of the earth, the whisper of the plants as they grew, the song of the birds as they blessed the rows of corn, potatoes, tomatoes, interlaced with the pumpkin and squash vines to keep the raccoons at bay. Marigolds to repel bugs, gladiolus for their boundless beauty.

Some days she ached for the peace, for the simpleness then. When she still had hopes; when she still had dreams. When seed catalogues brought rich illustrations of all the possibilities.

Everywhere since, she had planted something – a window box, a sunflower in an earthenware pot; even guerilla gardened by scattering wildflower seeds in abandoned urban lots where scraggly weeds and crumbling houses struggled to stay upright.

She needed the smell of the earth, the warmth of the sun. Nothing but a garden could provide that. Closeted, without dreams and hope, she knew that her garden days were over. She sighed.

Somewhere, a seed, deep inside the winter ground, awoke. Knowing that spring was yet possible, it began to reach for the sun it could not see but feel. It was one of her seeds, those wildflower seeds thrown to the wind of urban decay.



8 thoughts on “Dreams of gardens

  1. wendy February 18, 2014 / 11:14 pm

    you have entered my heart once again my dear friend. I miss my garden. I try now, but it’s not the same. I can’t keep it up. so now I throw out the wild flower seeds….flowers that were only supposed to grow up to 24 inches, grew up to my nose!
    But I miss the garden, the weeding, the smell of the earth. The coolness of the dirt as you dig even though the sun is beating down on your back. The fruits of your labor…..labor of love. There is nothing like eating something you have grown.

    I remember something silly….not that we planted it, but we tended this poor orange tree in our yard when we lived in Palm Springs. It produced 2 oranges that first year. We were so proud! We shared that first orange, the juices running down our chins, our fingers getting all sticky and laughing so….we had an orange, picked from a tree in our yard….could it get much better.
    Oh wait…..there was the lemon tree in the backyard that produced so many lemons our house smelled like lemons all the time, and there was always fresh lemonade. The winters in Palm Springs….a marvelous time for a couple who had only been married a few months.


  2. Colline February 14, 2014 / 12:18 pm

    Your story reminds me of putting my hands in the soil and smelling the scent of the earth. I enjoyed reading your response to this week’s prompt Phylor.


    • phylor February 14, 2014 / 12:56 pm

      I love it when you turn the ground over, or dig in with your hands and that wonderous smell is released. When I had the big garden in the picture, we lived on the edge of an apple orchard (of which I’ve often written/commented), I never allowed myself to think negative thoughts when I was inside the garden’s perimeter. It was huge! But, we grew the most wonderful corn (not a supersweet) yellow corn called Jazz. I would put the water on to boil, we’d go pick the corn, shucking it as we went back into the house and it was ready to eat within a few minutes. Never had anything taste as fresh and natural since!


      • Colline February 14, 2014 / 6:50 pm

        What a beautiful memory to have.


  3. Kesha February 14, 2014 / 11:07 am

    I like this post…it creates a sense of peace with a mild sense of sadness as I read. Have a great day!


    • phylor February 14, 2014 / 11:30 am

      Thank you. There is a sense of sadness, but if the gardener has lost her hope, the seeds she planted continue to spread the peace she seeks. I’m glad you understood the message.
      Wishing you a wonderful Friday!


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