On a green frayed old Ikea carpet,I’m lying like a stranded starfish on my porch which also houses my dog’s terrier hair. A brilliant blue morning sky stretches like the vast sea above me. The white noise of traffic on El Camino Real and the swishing of water of the carwash nearby comes and goes like waves. I watch motionless as the sea gulls fly across the sky; the sun smells like summer, warm and sweet. Now the breeze brings all kinds of memories of previous summers, mostly they are all feelings and scents with occasional pictures. A wayward plane succeeds in blending in with the white seagulls as it flies high above me with a faraway roar.
I have a few plants in pots, an overgrown rosemary, a bolting thyme and a sage plant, all of them look like they need water. I have three geraniums that are the oldest of the lot, they look too old and muscular to be in the pots they are now. I might do some pruning later. I also have a stubborn dwarf key lime that refuses to fruit, all it does is flower and drop, murdering my margarita dreams.
I definitely need bigger pots.
Then I have two stars of the show-my ‘Dalle’ chilly pepper plants-one is taking a lot of time to get taller and the taller one refuses to fruit. I have a feeling I did not inherit my father’s green thumb. Everytime like magic, it seems like he can coax flowers out of the bare earth and they comply, as if they have a secret language they whisper in. I remember the white roses on the gate and the red poppies blooming in the little garden of our old home, almost as if it were yesterday. As clear as day, If I close my eyes I can picture him making pots out of plastic or with his back hunched over among the poppy blooms. It’s easy to see where my love for nature comes.
As much as I love plants,I seem not yet able to understand what they need besides water and occasional organic fertilizer. Maybe I need to slow down and listen, to understand and gently nurture.
(I really must drop into the gardening store today.)
My to-do list is too long, so many half done projects that need attention and promises to keep. When overwhelmed at times; I tell myself that I am stronger than this and like my father toiling over his little garden, I promise to pay attention to my plot of earth in my soul. I will be kind to myself most importantly,and pull out the weeds of self doubt and insecurities so that I may have a garden as beautiful as the one my father made-inside of me.