27 March 2020. A Garden.
All a-tangle, there's no way round it. So you plunge into the midst, regardless. Yes, regardless--observations and making sense, cares and concerns, thoughts, plans--the lists and wherefore's, whatnot's and endless yes's and no's. Let's go more with the yes's, though--they're so bountiful--and so much more fun...
The yard so beautiful this morning--and I do say yard, although garden takes us back, back to the beginning of time, when a dear soul must have set the Mexican Pine into the earth as a small tree. There's no separate word, I think--not sprout or shrub, or shoot (although she did love that word in particular--using it often, the way something shoots up...as if the meaning were right there in the sound, gatherered in with the lips, then let go, all one burst... Like (of course) life itself...
