Monday in Fridaville

April 14th, 2008

My two-year-old cherry tree put forth her best effort this spring and now all her blossoms are just memories, like the last glimpse of a kimono as its wearer leaves the room. When my mother died, a friend gave me a rose bush to plant in her memory. When I dug the hole, I dropped in a note to my mother before I put in the root ball and covered it with dirt. Maybe I should do that more often…send a message to the plant, or to the universe, or to someone who has gone ahead. Or simply a word to the earth you’re disturbing, maybe explaining what this plant is, where it came from and what your hopes are for it. Possibly I would have better luck with my garden (dark)arts. Instead of stunting my plants’ growth, it might encourage them, give them strength to survive frost, sporadic watering and benign neglect. I didn’t do that with the cherry tree, but if I had, I would have copied this haiku by Basho on a slip of paper and put it in the ground for the tree to grow on:
Myriads of things past
Are brought to my mind –
These cherry blossoms!

 

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