These last weeks have been a blur of AYSO soccer playoff games, fifth-grade current event projects, book report dioramas, and Hurricane Ana preparations. Each event has passed with relative ease (the hurricane nearly swirled to a stop 85 miles off the coast of Kauai, but then picked up the pace and moved along, causing little damage to our island). Hurdling deadlines and buffering for natural disasters takes work.
As we pull the plywood from the windows, and Jeb turns in his latest school project, I sigh and take stock. My internal meter reading suggests that resources are on the wane.
If my artistic expression were vegetative, I think I’d be right there with the cucumbers.
Now, passed their prime, crinkled, dry leaves hang lifeless on the fence line. A few stunted cucumbers dangle mid-mission, never fully having matured. Potential, unrealized. Pickles anyone?
However, I will not sour. Despite its fading glory, I see the beauty in the brown of lacy leaves hanging in sunlight. Their precious transparency whispers of readiness to return to soil. It’s time pull the roots on this once-prolific plant. Complete the circle of life. Compost.
In this garden, all aspects of the Cycle are represented. Just beyond the dying vine, zinnias and marigolds bloom in gold and fuchsia. And around the corner, in the water garden, our first lily flower is just about to break the liquid surface with a bud.