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This wasn't a great summer for planting flowers. In fact, the only flowers on our property are perennials--rust and purple irises and an entire side-of-the-house profusion of an unnamed hot pink species. Our elderly neighbor, Maxine, gave us those bulbs eight years ago, straight from her garden, where they were overrunning everything. She blamed her dead mother for the abundance of the unstoppable bloom, since they'd been in her mother's garden first, and couldn't wait to share the old lady with us. At the rate the blossoms multiply, it's not likely the women's memory will ever die now, though they themselves are planted elsewhere. My flower pots from last year's annuals, though, contain cracked soil and little else, save for a few sorry, scraggly brown stems of who knows what? It's been a long time. The pots should have been hidden away, since I had neither the time nor inclination to beautify them this year, but they've sat out all season, one now weirdly wedged between two shrubs, another sitting barren on the lonely ledge of the porch, one in the middle of the patio table, a centerpiece that never was.

One vessel, though, at the corner of the front steps, where the house joins the world, was blown over in some forgotten contest of wind and rain, and all its worthless contents spilled out in the dirt. The container lies on its side, abandoned, spent. Next to it, annuals bloom. Not this year's annuals, but last. Red, pink, purple, orange, crazy with life, unplanted, watered by accident, flowers that were completely dead a year ago, but in whose seed a spark remained. I look at them, and understand, and keep on writing.

Posted by Katy on 09/17/02 at 08:15 AM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	(No Title) This wasn't a great summer for planting flowers. In fact, the only flowers on our property are perennials--rust and purple irises and an entire side-of-the-house profusion of an unnamed hot pink species. Our elderly neighbor, Maxine, gave us those bulbs eight years ago, straight from her garden, where they were overrunning everything. She blamed her dead mother for the abundance of the unstoppable bloom, since they'd been in her mother's garden first, and couldn't wait to share the old lady with us. At the rate the blossoms multiply, it's not likely the women's memory will ever die now, though they themselves are planted elsewhere. My flower pots from last year's annuals, though, contain cracked soil and little else, save for a few sorry, scraggly brown stems of who knows what? It's been a long time. The pots should have been hidden away, since I had neither the time nor inclination to beautify them this year, but they've sat out all season, one now weirdly wedged between two shrubs, another sitting barren on the lonely ledge of the porch, one in the middle of the patio table, a centerpiece that never was. One vessel, though, at the corner of the front steps, where the house joins the world, was blown over in some forgotten contest of wind and rain, and all its worthless contents spilled out in the dirt. The container lies on its side, abandoned, spent. Next to it, annuals bloom. Not this year's annuals, but last. Red, pink, purple, orange, crazy with life, unplanted, watered by accident, flowers that were completely dead a year ago, but in whose seed a spark remained. I look at them, and understand, and keep on writing. Posted by Katy on 09/17/02 at 08:15 AM Fallible Comments... Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: (No Title) Previous entry: (No Title) << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri