Tag Archives: garden

It’s so hot I feel like I’m on fire

Posted on by buffaloed

Mom and the neighbor, Mrs. Blake, are squared off in our shared driveway while the black top radiates heat like someone set the oven on high and left the door open. My science teacher would be proud of my use of the word “radiate.”

My rubber soled sneakers stick to the over-heated tar. You can hear them squelch as I walk toward my mom. I don’t run outside anymore.

Mom says no more swimming at the public pool. I’m disappointed, but a sign was posted last week about cases of E. coli, and yesterday the suntan oil slick caught fire, so I guess she has a point.

I see the object of Mom’s and Mrs. Blake’s argument before I can hear them. They both have a death grip on the garden hose and are waving it like a drooping sword, while a few drops of water dribble out. There’s hardly any water pressure, and we’re on a rationing schedule. Today is not Mom’s day.

“I need to water my tomatoes before they die in this heat,” Mrs. Blake insists, pointing at the gray-dry stalks with the hard green marbles hanging from their stems.

Too late, I think.

“Forget your stupid tomatoes,” Mom shouts. “We won’t have anything to eat today if I don’t keep these peas alive.”

“It’s my day to water,” Mrs. Blake shouts back, yanking the hose harder and stumbling backwards when her hands slip off the hose.

“Ha!” Mom yells, forgetting her resolution to be more neighborly this year.

I catch Mrs. Blake by the elbow to steady her. “Mrs. Blake. Mom. It’s too hot to argue out here.” I realize it really is hot. Like, I’m heading for some shade.

“Honey,” Mom says. “Come here.”

She reaches out and pats me on the head, surprising me – she’s not one to show affection – when I realize the scorching sun’s rays have set my hair on fire.

All That Matters

Posted on by buffaloed

Despite its being a perennial
each spring
along with the usual garden selection
I plant catnip.

The musky smelling mint
isn’t in the ground a single day
before all its leaves
have been eaten.

I sit down next to Bobo the barn cat
and I tell him,
“Bobo honey?
You ate it all up again.”

Bobo rolls onto his back,
smashing the bare stem underneath him.
His hind legs splay,
his forepaws pad the soft evening air.

Oblivious to the waiting
for another year,
he knows,
now is good.

In Spring

Posted on by buffaloed

I planted a garden,
which means I dug up
buckets of dirt, dug out
weeds, disturbed
the red ants.
They swarmed up
the shovel handle.

I planted a garden,
unexpectedly unearthing
a cast-iron bathtub.
The first homeowner had
buried it in the backyard.
No claw feet.
People always ask.

I planted a garden,
after doing battle
with two cactus plants
standing sentry
at the back door.
Prickly by nature,
they did not go quietly.

I planted a garden,
or at least –
I prepared the bed
for the flowers to be.
I rinsed off the shovel,
ants and dirt and blood
returning to the earth.

The Second Sunday of May

Posted on by buffaloed

If you were here today,
to celebrate Mother’s Day,
I would plant an herb garden for you.

Come summer, you could have
the bright taste of parsley in chilled tomato soup
and quirky lemon balm in your tea
– in winter, a leaf of sage
in your favorite butternut squash.

Year to year, some of the plants,
like basil and dill,
would need to be refreshed –
but who doesn’t like an excuse
to buy a new Easter dress?

Heartier herbs go round and round.
You’d always find steadfast rosemary
right where we’d placed her, while sweet mint,
that gadabout, would spring up
wherever space allowed.

And versatile lavender, cool and warm,
would be heavy enough to touch you,
her scent woven into the memory of air.