Spring

5/12/14
And at once it’s Spring; the Salmon ride in from the ocean up the Big River, gill net to troll, line caught to net, to boat, a day removed from the river, filleted that morning, broiled with a touch of hard wood, brushed with butter, add toasted breadcrumbs seasoned with a twist of spicy peppercorns, the fish sparkles with a final squeeze of lemon and swirl of chives as the world rolls by.

In back in what we at one time called a garden, a space so prized that we had it entirely fenced just to keep out the quail. And then fenced again after a heavy winter’s snow reduced the webbing to rubble; now it’s a jail for giant, radical weeds, aspiring elm trees and Lord only knows what else.

Penned in, the weeds stare out over the green grass, thirstily watching the sprinklers rotate around the yard, dry tendrils wrapped through the chain link, silently crowding against the fence, working under the wire by the light of the moon.

The thick wall of mint must be four feet high. Long purple flowers reach through the garden netting and you can almost feel the root tendrils burrowing beneath your feet as the plant strains to take over the garden, the yard, the playground across the street. Tall green and red spikes with clusters of tiny yellow flowers turning into wispy, lacy type pods sending cotton parachutes of seed down onto the beds.

I imagine that they long to be free and join the dandelions gathering by the hundreds in the schoolyard across the way, turning to seed and flying away together on the late summer breeze.

The thick wall of mint must be four feet high. Long purple flowers reach through the garden netting and you can almost feel the root tendrils burrowing beneath your feet as the plant strains to take over the garden, the yard, the playground across the street. Tall green and red spikes with clusters of tiny yellow flowers turning into wispy, dandelion type pods sending cotton parachutes of seed down onto the beds.

Weary, seedy and overgrown.

Fascinating.

 

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply