Weeds and fear and a happy New Year

The weather today was perfect for gardening. Warm rays through patchy fog offered a setting of beauty and a good temperature for sprucing up my neglected vegetable patch.

Especially at noon: Straight-up sunshine over a soggy lawn.

I went outside to the garden that kept me in tomatoes, lettuce, carrots, and peppers throughout the summer. I turned to other things once fall arrived. And so I came upon a sad sight of yellows and browns that had once been spring green. Two of the three tomato plants survived, but a family of crabgrass moved up and in through the newspaper layer of the raised bed.

The soil was moist, so it was an easy win as I wrestled with the weeds. Except for one rogue clump. It refused me. I yanked and dug through most of the bed, but the weed was strong.

I scratched through the dirt and touched the worms.

I disturbed ant homes and admired their scurry.

I stepped in spoiled fruit and fresh cat litter.

I noticed the rose and remembered the thorns.

And when I found the root, I worked at it until a tug ended the war.

After, I sat in the soil and thought about how those few minutes in the garden characterized this past year.

It took a while, but I managed to make room in my life — and my soul — for my writing desires. There was a lot to dig up, put aside, rearrange, sacrifice, before I could move along. And entwined through it all was that stubborn weed called Fear.

I pulled it up and out. And tossed it away.

Happy New Year 2012


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