wishing for autumn...

It's too hot to journal this morning, so I have chosen to post an old entry from my domain blog,  autumnsongs.org/weblog.  hurry, autumn...

 

Yesterday afternoon, my son dragged me to the back-forty to have a look at the new puppies. I seldom go to that part of the yard, since my enthusiasm waned after expending tons of energy keeping up the first five acres surrounding my house.

I had big dreams for that land – raised bed gardens, eucalyptus trees, a gazebo. There’s plenty of room for all of that and more, and if I go a little further back, I could plant my own forest, mini rose garden, and an orchard. But I’ve let it go. It’s overgrown with wild grape vines, crow’s foot grass and broom straw.

I think the enthusiasm began its decline about five years ago, but prior to that, I filled that remote part of the yard with mint, chrysanthemums, and a few scraggly rose bushes.

They’re still there; there’s a black rose and a Broadway rose, which is pink and yellow, some ragged mums and enough mint to harvest and market.

Despite my neglect, they’re still thriving, surrounded by enough nettles to make it appear I was attacked by a rabid porcupine.

But oh, the mint! The one pot from Johnny’s prison green house has covered the ground like  wildfire in a dry summer, and it smells so so clean, so out of place in the weed garden I gave back to nature.

After I finished admiring the puppies (their mother hid them at the edge of the woodline), I picked a handful of the mint. Just touching the leaves releases their scent, and the air, already cool from October, tasted more crisp.

I picked more sprigs. I named them spring and summer, winter and fall. I took them inside. The scent and flavor of all the seasons are now in a vase on my kitchen windowsill, sprinkled with water as if it had rained on them so I can smell them even better.

This morning, they’re as green and fragrant as they were when I stole them from the weed garden, and I’m enough of a dreamer to see symbolism in their delicate foliage.

I planted a fresh start when I moved to this house, and now I’ve brought it inside.

It just might be possible to go back and move forward at the same time.