I wanted a garden. One that I could watch grow, commune with, be with in solace. I grew up in the garden, laying on nearly-too-hot bricks, watching tiny creatures wander about. Toodlebuggin’. Aimless, or busy? Hard to know.
Tree to shrub to vine, eating fruits all summer, not competing with George the tortoise for windfallen fruit. Peaches, grapes, strawberries, apricots and nectarines. That was summer. In the garden. So much fruit.
Funny how two apricots ripining side by side would each have a different quality. Subtleties and sometimes fully off. I took it all in. All part of summer.
Every place I moved, I started propagating. It seemed a loss not to have a patch of earth to play with. Even a few feet. A mere strip. Sometimes, I'd claim an apartmenthouse lawn, inch by inch, othertimes, a pine alley understory.
After 20 years, I had a cast of potted characters, nomadic, looking, like me, for forever home.
They aren't like us. They generally stay rooted their whole lives. Evolved to be this way. I observe, but don't understand. In one place. Stretch for the sun. Maybe die trying. Just like I cannot fly and cannot feel connected to others whenever I want to. They seem less frustrated, but they haven't said. I haven't asked.
Are you getting the cadence? Does every song sound the same, or is there still something to find here, morsels.
Because of Tom Krake I saved. Because of Todd Krake I saved. I wanted a house. One showed me it was possible the other, well, not with him it wasn’t. I saved.
John let me live in his little house for free. Unheard of. I kept waiting to pay, but was never asked. So I saved.
And when the economy tanked, I bought.