How does my garden grow?

Posted on June 2, 2013


I have lost my heart for so many of the things I love since I met DK. Movies, meals, restaurants, menus, music.

 It didn’t happen overnight; the erosion was slow. For many of them my fondness at first grew with the anticipation of finally sharing them with someone with whom I was in such sync; who shared so many of the same loves.

As months and then years passed and promises went unfulfilled, dates not kept, menus never realized, it became more painful than pleasurable to even consider them. So I shrouded those desires until they began to shrink and shrivel and gather dust.


One of those loves is gardening. I’ve spent years on my garden, cultivating indigenous plants, trying to create a wild English garden feel out of Texas heat-hardy plants. It was not unusual in years past for people to stop when they saw me tending my garden, chat and ask for cuttings. (The picture above is from autumn of 2009; my cosmos went crazily mutant that year. It was so wild I just let them go to see what would happen. I got a cosmos jungle!)


But by 2010, I could barely bring myself to pull a weed. There was – still is – so much association to DK in my front garden. I had planted half dozen inexpensive solar garden lights in the yard a few days before DK showed up unexpectedly one evening on my porch.

Those cheesy little lights were glowing that night and I cannot look at them without thinking how lonely I had been when I stuck them in the ground, missing Deke with an ache in my gut, and then later how happy and childishly hopeful I was for a short time that summer.

 There was the day he breezed into my home while I was taking a lunch break from gardening. His amusement at my painted porch steps. And the day he came over when I was killing fire ants…


 Yes, my garden triggers many memories of DK. It became easier on my heart to just walk past it with blinders on and let everything go to seed. So that’s what I’ve done for the past three or four years.


 I finally feel as if I can bear the memories that digging in the dirt is bound to unearth for me. I hope so. I’ve dug in; we’ll see how it goes. I’ve got a lot of ground to uncover and butterflies to bring back. 

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