Not terribly original, perhaps, but doing some yard work around here supplied me with some thoughts. I couldn't help but see some parallels to life in the story of one of the little gardens in the terraced yard.
Once there was a little garden plot on a hill overlooking the sea. It was a productive garden of young plants. Nearly every day a Girl would come and water the ground, and the sun would rise and smile on the plot throughout most of the day. Tiny tomato, pepper varieties, basil, garlic, and parsley plants began to grow in the rich soil. They were kept free from grass encroachment by a tall stone barrier. The crowning glory of the pot was a strip of fragrant Bee Balm flowers, nodding at the sea as the wind would gently nudge them. Every day hummingbirds were drawn to the little plot by the crimson flowers, and they'd dance above the basil and tomatoes, happily licking the nectar.
Time passed, and with Girl's watering, the sun's smiling, and the sea's gentle breeze, the pants began to grow taller until they passed the stone barrier in height and enjoyed their first view of the sparkling waters of the cove beyond. Occasionally, Girl would come with a trowel and dig around the plants, plucking out the few intruder weeds that had somehow crossed the stone barrier and audaciously taken up residence among the tenants of the plot. Most of the weeds were easily visible; spindly little creatures that grew at random spots beneath the valid plants, and didn't even have enough sense to plant themselves in the sunlight. Instead they clustered cowardly around the base of the tomatoes and Bee Balm, as if hiding beneath their leaves would perhaps conceal their identity from Girl for a few days longer and give them a chance at life. Girl was careful, though, and most weeds, no matter how small and no matter how cowardly, were discovered and plucked by her unsympathetic hand...then banished to the white bucket. From there, they were dumped into a mass grave of weeds, sticks, and other such things so offensive to gardeners and their plots.
One day a little Weed seed arrived to the plot. (How it survived a journey over the stone wall and into the plot is anyone's guess. Did the wind carry it? Was it brought on an animal's paw or dropped by a bird? The silent appearance of such weeds is a mystery in and of itself.) This Weed seems to have been a particularly smart one, for instead of picking a cowardly spot beneath the leaves of the basil, it dropped itself strategically smack-dab in the middle of the rectangular plot. Therefore, it took root in the center of the Bee Balm. Girl missed it among the thick crimson flowers when it was tiny, but finally came upon it one day when it was in its adolescence. Surely it must have stiffened as her hand reached dangerously close to pluck it, and then faltered. Hmm... maybe this plant isn't a weed. After all, it's growing an such a symetrical place; it fits so well where it is. Maybe it's just another flower I never noticed. Girl decided to ask the head gardener about the unrecognized plant, but forgot to do so until the next watering. By this time, Weed had grown to a dignified height and could see over the rock wall to the sea. It enjoyed it's little plot and had a diabolical plan of its own to take over more and more space therein. Maybe settle down; have a family; spawn some grandweeds. Girl faltered again when she came upon Weed. It looked different from any flower she'd ever seen, but it was flourishing so well and growing so tall. Maybe it was a flower after all. It seems so at home there among the Bee Balm...
The day came when Head Gardener himself came to look over his plots. Carefully he strung up the heavily laden tomato plants, checked the peppers for ripeness and admired the heighth of the basil. He stopped, though, when he saw a tall, foreign plant sticking its head haughtily above the Bee Balm. What on earth...? Stooping for a closer look, he shook his head incredulously. This weed had grown bigger than any of the other plants in the plot. Not only was it tall, it was wide. It's tenuous arms spread as if to engulf the Bee Balm and clutch the vegetables on either side. And, worst of all, it was beginning to seed.
Slowly, Head Gardener began to pull Weed from the base. Weed hung on with all its might and refused, at first, to be lifted from the ground. What a struggle! hearing the death toll, Weed grasped desperately at the plants on either side of it, determined to lose no footing in this perfect little plot of land. Head Gardener was persistent, though, and soon an enormous root system emerged from the deep. Weed, reluctantly admitting defeat, was carried away by girl to the mass grave. Before Girl threw Weed to its death, she held it out and gazed at it incredulously. How had she missed this weed at first? And then, how had she justified its existence in the plot? How had it grown to such an unbelievable size? And finally, how large would it have grown if the Head Gardener hadn't uprooted it? Now there was a gaping hole scaring the land right in the middle of the plot, and though it would soon cover itself back over with loose dirt, the Bee Balm wouldn't grow there until next year. Not only that, but as girl threw Weed into the mass grave with a frown (as if it's grasping roots just might reach out and seize herself!), she noticed a crimson flower whose own roots were tangled and grasped in one if Weed's tentacle-like roots. At least one flower had been sacrificed in the struggle to remove Weed.
She started back towards the plot, and as she walked, she smoothed the wrinkles in her crimson dress and contemplating her own life.
David:
Oksana and her amazing cooking...! She made us a delicious dinner of Russian soup and varieniky (Russian perogies). Sooo-ho-ho good!
