Today’s post is brought to you by the letter H and the category of memoirs
In honor of my Home.
It took many long years before I owned my first home. I used to dream about having one and what I would do wit and how my gardens would grow.
These are some of my thoughts in a different sort of prose, enjoy.
I never had any other desire so strong and so like to covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master, at last, of a small house and a large Garden. -Abraham Cowley, The Garden, 1666.
So it is written, so shall it be true.
Long were the times I spent in thought of spaces in which to exercise my dreams. Hoping for a chance to dig my hands into the rich soil and feel the warmth of a late spring day on my back.
Not just any soil, but soil that was attached to my name by legal papers.
Too many years went by tending the gardens of others. As I tediously pulled weed from earth I jealously scowled. Although the labor was good for the heart it was sour on the soul. The joy was lost in the creation when I walked away. Most likely never to return or worse yet, return to an ill-kept site, staring in wonder at the hard work that was so easily swept to the side in light of other worldly ventures.
It was ne'er in vain as all those years cumulated and an expansive growth of knowledge found its way into my core. In perfection, there must be practice. Soon enough, the pen would grace the paper and I would acquire one such acre to practice all my practicing on.
It is here where I sit and watch the bees light on the flowers. It is here I smell the sweet roses and laugh at the bouncing daylilies. Marveling at how the soil puts forth such an abundance if just cared for a little. It is akin to a child, who upon the slightest bit of love, can grow into a strong and vibrant character.
So quick they are to grow, the vegetables in the garden. No site is more endeared to a gardener than the first of the cucurbits or that first red, ripe tomato. And only a gardener will understand when you say that growing can be more fun than eating.
I cherish the land, the structure and the nature within. Dorothy said it best,
“There’s no place like home.”