My Garden of Hope

The winding path led me to a secluded spot past the knoll over-looking the Abbey at Lemuria. My special bag tight in my grasp, I was dressed in a purple and yellow swirley skirt fluttering around my legs, an orange silk blouse tucked neatly in at the waist and red organza slippers adorned my feet. I mean, this was a special occasion, right? No mundane colors for me, no sir, my running age won’t give up everything to old age. 

I came to a mound of moss which seemed to beckon, fanned my skirt out around me and sat down. The pungent odor of the earth filled my nostrils with nostalgia as anticipation fueled my senses to open my special bag. I pulled apart the silk drawstrings and poured out the seeds, which seemed to fall and lay on the ground in a pre-destined order.

There was a myriad of seeds, but only five of them fell out. I picked each one of them up and placed them in the palm of my hand, noticing each one had a name inscribed in gold. Each beautiful seed, shiny and smooth to the touch, was emblazoned each one with the name of my husband, my daughter, my two grandchildren and lastly, my mother. A cool breeze gently brushed across my cheeks, which caught me by surprise, what with the calmness in the air that was apparent only a few seconds before. An omniscient message perhaps?

On my knees now, I lovingly prepare the earth as a sleeping place, laying each seed into their new home, and then covering them with tender loving care, the velvet smooth earth feeling comfortable between my fingers. What ordinarily would have been a simple act, turned into a commitment to fulfill a mission, a message to the finality of it all?

As I stood up, I shook the remnants of the soft earth from my skirt and glanced at the finished row of seeds nestled in their velvet loam earth beds I had just created. A feeling of calm and contentment enveloped me, grateful for the change in what was once my chaotic, unsettled life. I had a good feeling in my heart, but waiting to see what would come of all of this would be my greatest challenge. Also wondering what the rest of the seeds represented only added to my inquisitiveness. I knew somehow I would have to put all of this from my mind. Diverting my attention I looked out over the horizon, rummaged into my special bag for my spectacles, cocked them briskly on my nose and went in the direction of the myst.

sage © 

         

 

     

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About nevadasky

writer and artist

Posted on October 26, 2006, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. You may wind up in the Gypsy camp that way,
    but then you are dressed for it …

    can you dance?

  2. ummm Gypsy Camp? sounds like fun, and, yes, I can dance; it’s time I dance to my own tune for a change, wouldn’t you say? (after 63 years)

  3. Your work with the seeds is inspiring Sage. We each come from seeds, bloom and hopefully re-seed. Thank you.

  4. Going in the directin of the myst is usually a fine idea…

    MotherBear

  5. Lovely, thoughtful, colourful writing.

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