Photo Prompt courtesy of Delores at The Featherednest, http://mybabyjohn.blogspot.com/
The Gardener
She lived at the end of our road in a small, neat, white clapboard house. I used to pass her by as I went for my walk in the morning and I would see her again at night when I took Kerry, our dog, for his evening constitutional. She was always working in her garden. She was a lady up in her years and dressed in a big brimmed purple hat, a blue dress with a green apron and big yellow rubber shoes. She was a staple in the neighborhood, but I never knew her name. We always just called her "The Gardener". Once or twice a year I did stop to talk and tell her how I admired her plantings. She would always say, "Thank you, but I can't seem to get it just right this year." She seldom looked up and I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or herself. Her yard was lovely and and there was always something new to see. I wish, at times, I had taken the time to speak with her longer, but we all live busy lives and other than say hello, I went about my business and she with hers.
She has been gone for a few years now and the new owners have done away with most of her gardens. As I passed her home the other day, there in a crack in the pavement lay the daintiest of plants clinging to life among the weeds that were also choking to get out. I thought of leaning down and trying to pull it out, but then I thought of her, and it occurred to me that this might have been a seed from one of her flowers that had fallen between the sidewalk and laid dormant until now. I smiled, said hello, and walked on thinking that "The Gardner", in a way, was still there.
Arleen, I love your post. I hope the little plant survives. I know we all different taste and lifestyles, but I hate to see people into homes with established gardens and rip them out. It truly breaks my heart. Again, a lovely post. Bonnie
ReplyDeleteOkay I've now reread and notice I left out significant words....like verbs maybe? .....I know we all have different taste and lifestyles, but I hate to see people move into homes.... sorry....first day back at school. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it;)
ReplyDeleteVerbs, who needs them! I read your comment and put in my own.
DeleteThat was just beautiful.
ReplyDeleteLovely post.
ReplyDeleteThis is a delightful story. Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteThere a little bit of something on my desktop that speaks of the flower that blooms in adversity. Help yourself to it! It so reminds me of your flower, and the Gardener.
Blessings and Bear hugs.
P.S.: Like you, I'm retired. My experience, daily, is that there's too much work left at the end of the time. It is an "adjustment period," indeed. I don't have a garden in which I can play with flowers, but I have binoculars, a camera, some paint brushes, etc. with which I can do things.
I agree with Bonnie; people work for years on a garden, only to have it all pulled out by a new owner.... awful. My late mother always said one shouldn't touch a newly adopted garden (other than mowing) for at least a year. That way you get to see exactly what's there, and can then begin to filter.
ReplyDeleteHello Arleen:
ReplyDeleteSuch a sad story in so many ways when one considers all of the years of hard work, but we trust pleasure too, on the part of The Gardener have all now gone for nothing. But what is so good is that she does, in fact, live on through your memories of her and of this post.
Ah, this left me rooting for the little flower! :)
ReplyDeleteVery sweet
A beautifully written story! Julie
ReplyDeletebeautiful!
ReplyDeleteDear Arleen, thank you for sharing the story and for trusting the moment. Peace.
ReplyDeleteI think The Gardener finally got it right. Lovely.
ReplyDeletelovely thoughts...i think you are right!!
ReplyDeleteI think you're right--it was her gift to you. The gardener lives one. Lovely story.
ReplyDeleteDelightful.
ReplyDeleteAmazing, the beauty that springs up in the cracks...
Pearl