Autumn's Secret Garden~3x10 x10

Here is a rough draft of something I wrote quite awhile back. It is in a rough form. But I would appreciate feedback on the feeling, the flavor of what you read. I have someone who will do editing so I am not necessarily needing anything other did you enjoy (or not) and why...

JHM

Autumn in her Summer Garden

JHM09©

It was time.

3 times 10 x three time...

It was on this day balmy with whispers of a sweetness hovering Autumn came upon a decade old manuscript that she had with promises to return to and never did. It had been one of nearly a decade of promises that she did not keep. One more & one more & still one more thing crowded in blocking the sounds & whispers until she could pretend not to hear any longer.

She had many just not yet dreams carelessly tossed around the face of the moon, dancing in a light that had been dazzling but soon fizzle as another beautiful sizzling thought would come on a breath and left in the wind. Something happened on this day.
Something of a time as ripe as she laid there drifting about hearing in Stevie’s Songs in the Keys of Life stirring her memories to a place and a time 3 times 10 years ago when she felt she was a free woman... How odd it was Autumn found searching for her songs that she had placed on mute in her garden a moment where reading her own words hearing again the whispers, seeing the flavor & tones from so long ago and wondering if she could begin again. And then this day came… A near impossibly perfect day surrounded by remnants of a long neglected garden Autumn began. Accompanied by Stevie’s songs playing for company she decided to attend her long neglected garden. The surface of the ground was springy and cushioned her every move as she wandered and wondered how this garden grew into such a hodgepodge of disarray, but yet beautiful. It had been many moons since she bothered to step in to it, as she lived her life from inside her room and her head.

The gloxinias and the morning glories were entangled; many of her magnificent ferns were discolored from unattended fronds that had died. But yet she could still see how valiant the dahlias were impervious to the neglect raising magnificent heads on seemingly impossible stems , the lemon balm fragrance dancing in perfect harmony with the sight of her impatients doing what they needed to until she was ready.

Her journal and her favorite purple pen was right where she left them a decade ago... though pages were wrinkled & warped from days and nights in the elements in the rusted box they were still readable. Autumn's fingers moved in rapidly moving through pages of spilling thoughts from long ago. Disregarding the purpose she originally came into the garden, for the rest of the day she read, read and read some more of the words, thoughts & dreams she had put aside. She knew, while doing this, what she was going to have to do.


A professional in finding excuses costumed as a good reason for not getting started, Autumn had not a problem with stopping what was suppose to be a full day of work in this garden.

Turning to the last entry she read thoughtfully out loud:



Give us this Day~there lies the time& space in which we Live
1978

My special and favorite time is Sunday morning. It wasn’t always this way, but it is now. My usual ritual consisted of upon my arousal I would around 6am spend time nurturing my garden watering, feeding, weeding, plucking away dead leaves, feeling the coolness of the refreshed morning air simply enjoying the sounds lost in my thoughts… I would , have my breakfast, read my newspaper, listen to Soul train and write. Many time just a whisper of a unconsciously smiling It may not be unique for some but for me I find it interesting as once upon a time when I was till in my 20’s I dreaded, resented Sundays.

James Baldwin had once said: “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced”. It took awhile & some maturing to get why I felt that way, but lets just say I do not feel that way any longer.

I am not, no matter what people may think, a political person. I am however an observer of life and human behavior in all its vastness, its simplicity and its tendency to make things far more complex then needed. . People never cease to amaze me in the things they do with capability to rise so high and then slam bam falling face first into concrete And then adding insult to injury get up and walk away as if nothing has happened trailing bits & pieces of their pride, humility, embarrassment likes so many colorful pieces of chastened confetti behind them making such a mess!

For me, watching life & dynamics but staying a respectful distance sometimes shows me at the end of the day that some of the needless-ness has about as much worth as a Confederate bill in the Great Depression. Knowing that preserving the air & energy it takes to expended is as needed as it keeps me from running screaming into the woods if one gets too caught up!

But just like my youthful intensity, I have reconciled my dislike for Sunday. I’ve changed... A lot .

I had to learn that when people have an intense response to something may be a tickling or an agitation of a long forgotten memory or a longing for something denied. And the passion that it arises in working it out can be a wondrous sight to behold! That memory does not have to be a bad or painful one, though it can be, but it is amazing to see its resurfacing in ways that can indeed bring about discussion, action and ultimately change (hopefully)

I still hold to the belief when all has been said & done, people want to do the right thing, may go about it in screwy ways at times, but want to do the right thing.

Yet there are times when believing that is stretch uncomfortably.

I do feel that good hearted people still outweighs the others, but the "circle" people gets more air time. My lesson from these folks is "this is what you do not want to be & if there's a hint of it in you, eradicate it quickly”.

I know I am a flawed person, 'tis true, but I hope in a good way to keep life interesting.

I do not have the answers or solutions, merely an observer who still believes in miracles... And imagine I thought all of this as I sat in my garden on this given day…


It was time.

3x 10 x three times...

She knew she had worked hard over the years to even get to a point where she could come her after years of peeling off stuff that had adhered itself to her with the tenacity of barnacles on a ships hull. By stepping back to step forward, Autumn’s embraces all of her joys, triumphs, frailites in all that she had lived with some more living to do. Sometime, perhaps reflecting back on even this she will see a near impossible array of hues, tones and music dancing in the life she woven. What had been insanity once upon a moon, now as it has cleared up became a pas de deux of shine and shimmer which 30 years prior seemed impossible. She struggles to stand up, shakes the twigs and leaves that have fallen around her in her summer garden as the afternoon sun dips. She picks up the rake and begins.
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