The virginal gardenerBy Mermaid Jennifer
Feeling the earth in my hands
I dug my spade deep into the earth, breaking up chunks of packed mud clods. The tiny aliens crossed in the path before me, living rushed lives in search of food and shelter, and a place to breed. Some had eight, six, or four legs -- all lived below this world in a deep, dark, muddy cavern, sucking up dirt and smaller creatures.
The dirt turned under my shovel, as the sun coated my body like a shower of warm melted butter, browning my northern skin. The shovel went down again and more dirt came up uncovering tiny white bulbs of some unknown flower. Oh no! My experimentation in the seventy-year old garden is going to get me in some serious trouble. Quick – bury those suckers before the Garden King assails my garden project with harsh words aged by time and the turn of the shovel.
A desire to learn more about the art of gardening
My interest in digging and growing tiny plants has only occurred recently, and already Grandfather considers my garden assistance an insult to gardeners of the world. He could better appreciate the work of a veteran gardener, one who knows the names of even the tiniest underground aliens and the most robust white bulbs. The virginal gardener turning over perennials does not interest the sun-baked Garden King.
Yesterday, he showed me how to run the sprinkler system. To me it seemed similar to taking a Harvard entrance exam, so he drew me a map. The map was supposed to simplify this maze of underground piping, but instead it turns out that the way one man looks at things, is never the way one woman would. But, if I figure out this one, I doubt I'll have problems with any other sprinkler system again. It helps to be a pessimist in gardening – then you might have a chance of being pleasantly surprised!
Watching the progress of growth in the garden
If you are a results kind of person, than gardening is sure a good summer project to undertake. Progress can be monitored through tiny green greatness creeping out of the earth. The dark soil encapsulates the compact little seeds like an egg growing in the uterus after being fertilized. It is truly miraculous to see the diminutive carrot plants squeezing up through the dry Idaho soil exposing slivered green leaves to the world.
The sprinkler has been on in the garden today, and the earth smells of fresh clay and heaven. All of the new living things are twinkling like stars in the summer sky; winking at the constellation of Corona Borealis – the Northern Cross.
Life within the earth leads to delicious fruits above it
The tiny aliens continue to squirm, grow, reproduce and then die; fertilizing this succulent patch of Eden.
One day, two weeks, two months will pass and the weeding, growing and watering ritual continues. With religious fervor I learn this earth, working my soil covered hands into the alien world pulling up volunteer plants clouding the organization the Garden King planned and memorized long ago.
One late July morning, the fruits of the novice gardener have come in: ripe raspberries; plump carrots the color of the hottest summer day; rows of tall, deep green spinach; juicy magenta radishes; bushels of healthy broccoli and hearty red tomatoes greet the world, as the aliens linger below.
The Sun starting its dissension into fall ripens the now adult fruits and vegetables. They are grown and ready to go out on their own to line fruit bowls and feed those who worked the earth this summer.
The beginning of life for the tiny particles succeeded in the heavenly place of the garden. They have grown and produced. They are red and green and tangible. The Garden King is satisfied, a product has been reached – and the virginal gardener has graduated.
|
