Lost and found is my eureka! blog, my rediscovery of my short fiction and poetry submissions published in literary magazines and university literary journals some decades ago. Interspersed, occasionally, with more recent, hitherto unpublished pieces.
Just a spare moment - the urge becomes irresistible; how to set it aside? Simply not possible. The garden sits innocent of guile, simply there, presenting itself. It is my critical eye that observes all those little tasks that beg the attentive, perfectionist (me?) gardener's task-responsive bustle.
To be done: shrub trimming, tree cut-backs, perennial divisions, insecticide concocting-and-spraying, dead-heading, weed-pulling, coddling and watering; staking and replacing. Only then, when all is in impeccable order, every plant in its seasonal session of bloom and display, can the exacting gardener rest her attentiveness to excruciating, minuscule detail.
On the other hand, perhaps not, for none of those tasks has a defined beginning or an end but for the imposed interregnum of winter cessation: It is well to remember that the garden we champion strives to emulate nature not the self-obsessed nature of the self-flagellating gardener.
The gardener who, to assure the pleasure of aiding, not compelling, encouraging, not demanding, will inevitably discover the sweet solution to compulsion. The garden's rewards in sumptuous exuberant loveliness, its ultimate award.
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