Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The Legend Continues


Four hands, two trowels. Peppers hot and mild.
Tomatoes, eggplant, cucumber.

At the bottom of the slope, room for zucchini
and our grandson’s sunflower project

(little does he know)

.

The parsley?
Soon in a barrel, behind the house.

Half-buried in ivy, an old French plow,
once walked with a horse clear across town by my father
for fifty cents an hour, after the war,

after

the

war

.




[click to enlarge]


Earlier today: Summer of Dreams


4 comments:

erin said...

years away and yet the delicate threads of the radish cultivate the soil of us, draw us all together. gardening. such an innocence, william, don't you think?

xo
erin

William Michaelian said...

One of the best reminders there is, I think. An ancient calling. I chanced on a wonderful quote yesterday by Masanobu Fukuoka:

“The ultimate goal of farming is not the growing of crops, but the cultivation and perfection of human beings.”

Interesting.

Now, imagine parting the air with your fingers in the same way you ply the soil or a loved one’s hair.

Old 333 said...

I need to get out the weedeater and find the yard. The big shrubs form landmarks....

I am most impressed by your tidy homestead efforts, William. It sounds like a beautiful place, in the words from your head which has been there. We bring history and magic to our gardens; it doesn't leave with us, not right away.

Thanks for this, sir.

Peter

William Michaelian said...

Peter, you say good things and they hit the mark. Thanks. It’s true, I’m a fairly orderly person; I like my weeds where they belong, storming hillsides and crowding the front walk. Isn’t that a lovely dandelion in the foreground? It will have no interference from me.