Spring Inventory

It’s the time of year when you learn what survived the winter and what didn’t.

You see the bare patch in the flowerbed and you know something got to it;

the frost, the hail, the strong wind, the downed branch, the hungry squirrel, the neighbor’s dog, the curious raccoon, that stray cat.

You see the snapped stem and that flower is never going to bloom. Cut short by

the hungry squirrel, the curious raccoon, the kids

who had to catch the football, capture the flag, retrieve the shuttlecock.

The plant is not coming back and you are left with a bare patch.

Every year there is a bare patch.

Every year it is something.

My grieving time for the patch is proportional to the amount I invested in the initial planting;

the $20 rosebush,

the $15 endangered native lily,

the $8 heirloom Dutch tulip,

The $5 perennial starter pack,

the one cent larkspur seed.

But whatever it was I had hoped it would be, it’s never going to be

no matter how many tears I shed, or teeth I grind, or hairs I pull.

Every year there is something

that leaves a no thing

in the flowerbed.

After I’ve wrung my hands and whispered  a curse

I’ll begin to appreciate the ones who did survive winter and the associated environmental risk factors.

I’ll be grateful for those tremulous blooms.

And when I’m ready, I’ll plant anew

in the bare patch in the flowerbed.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s