How Things Spiral: the Crabby Woman’s Garden Entry

Today: by late afternoon, a day of complete frustration. Early at my laptop, I rewrote pages that made no sense, spelled specify wrong, sent an angry email to an innocent person I had to balefully retract, became enraged over a request from a friend I could never fulfill, filled out paperwork that marked a new low in the bureaucratic world for me, screwed up so badly at work I wept….. and that’s merely scratching the surface of this day.

To salvage, I went running before dinner while my daughter biked, and we met up with a neighbor who was strollering her two little kids. I’m very crabby, she immediately told me. Hey, me, too.

Later, we walked through my garden, and she cut handfuls of lemon balm and sage and mint, basil, and a fistful of hydrangeas. Her little boy ate sun golds. My garden, which has withered and died in entire beds this season, rampaged wildly in others, so neglected I’ve despaired–my garden. Yet, snipping these great handfuls for her, a cacophony of sweet scents wafted around us, and I realized what strange and unexpected beauty rose from my patch of earth this year.

After dinner, my daughter biked to her friend’s for trampoline jumping, and his mother phoned and apologized for sending my child home late. They kept laughing, she said. I had just walked into the kitchen with my dusty feet and my skirt full of tomatoes and peppers. One by one, I laid these fruits on the table. Fine, I said. Let them laugh.

This tiny seed
do not belittle:
red pepper.

–– Basho

IMG_2360

Elmore Mountain/Photo by Molly S.

About Brett Ann Stanciu

A writer and sugarmaker, Brett Ann lives with her two daughters in stony soil Vermont. Her novel HIDDEN VIEW was published by Green Writers Press in the fall of 2015. Let my writing speak for itself.
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