December 16, 2022 Part One There’s dirt all over the floor. I suppose there must be a tidy way to pot amaryllis bulbs, but it isn’t the method I’m using. A stack of fresh pots, Costco-grade box of foil for wrapping the pots, a bag of potting soil, a Chopstick for poking drainage holes–I’ve pulled out all the tools of the trade. Half the table is covered in shiny pots of dirt with the bulb tips...
February 14, 2022 Valentine’s Day: get out the clippers. Washington, DC is graced with a long, soft fall, swerving briefly into winter in January before careening between tempting spring warmth and unnerving cold for a few months, detouring through weeks of rainstorms before nose-diving into swampy summer humidity. So, not necessarily your ideal rose weather. (“The long, dry summers and wet...
March 5, 2022 The grip of cold is past,But not its gifts:The trees are sticks,The yard, still bare.Tufts of withered grass,Papery leaves, wind scattered,Whitewashed reeds,Seed pods: velvet husks, lone dried bean,Its time to sprout long past.The garden, gone.Beyond the fence, brown brush.Fallen branch.Amidst a mound of dirt Crowned with a sewage lid,A tiny creeping weed,Tendrils outstretched in...
January 28, 2022 I’ve got lilies and birds in my own front yard.I didn’t put them there,I don’t keep them there.As they are fed and watered through the natural course of things– a nature put in place deliberately, so Jesus told us, by God’s own self,So I do nothing to deserve their beauty, their symbolism–there is just delight at the cosmic joke,of placing in...