My Lovely Ladies

Everyone knows that nurturing a garden is far easier than nurturing children, or children that are clamoring to be adults, anyway. Put a plant in soil and usually it will just grow. There are no subtleties, no nuances, few worries and almost certain success for both the gardener and the plant.

Children, on the other hand, on first blush, seem easy. They are sweet and beautiful to look at. They love you unconditionally. But then over time, complexities evolve. Keeping them safe. Guiding them to do right and make healthy choices. Protecting them from overzealous teachers and other authoritarians. Letting out the leash only to have to reel it back in. Being their friend and then abruptly turning authority figure and jailer. Hypocrisy. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. Conflict. Disappointment.

And yet incredibly, none of it matters in the main. The sweet smile, the one you've recognized since the moment you first held them, melts your soul. The fierce love that you have for them cripples any attempt to remain angry. There's no flower in the world to compete.

Maybe instead, I can find some parental wisdom to draw upon in the soil. There, perhaps, in the dirt is the grit, the determination and all the micro-ingredients for the infinite worries and precautions that it takes to master the art and science of planting a child on this earth.

Peony Perfection

Peonies grow slow. And they're a little bit fussy. They like the right amount of sun. Good soil is important to them. They're vulnerable to disease. And they cost more than the other flowers at the nursery. So to grow a peony takes time and patience. I started my garden with two. They both succumbed that year to some sort of invasive bacteria. I dug them out at the end of the season and pitched them. The loss cost me dearly. I think the two plants together were about $50. The next spring, I bought just one. She did okay that season. But her bloom was too heavy for her stem. And, as I recall, she only gave up one or two blooms. Rain wore her down and she wasn't strong enough and I had to tie her to the fence for support. Well several seasons later, I had paid her little attention. Other plants to plant and plots to plan. She came and she went. I think one season, I was away and missed her blooms. They happen over a matter of days. Well this spring, she apparently had had enough of my near negligence. About two dozen blooms formed in the early April days. Every time I walked by her post at the gate, an anticipation began to build in my gardening soul. My peony had, at last, grown to her full mature potential. And she had something to say. When at last her blooms appeared, I was stunned by her magnificence. I didn't have to tie her up to give her strength, she held her own. The Putterer