Just a start to the 2024 Gardening year. Our son Conrad is staying with us for a while and gardening is his passion, so we are getting some help.

Although he does tend to be as 'creative' and 'experimental' (maybe more so) than I am, so it means a lot of divergences from the regular plan to try fresh new things... so we shall see what we shall see.

I have noticed, however, that our last month's grocery bill was HORRENDOUSly high-- so it will be important to get some actual everyday vegetables going so that we don't have to keep buying them in town. Carrots. Potatoes. Greens. Tomatoes. Squash. Fresh herbs. And, of course, quite a lot of berries and plums and cherries and strawberries. "We" also planted more (sour) cherries and some raspberries this year, but they probably won't happen until next year.

I also want to plant a number of flowers. Our yard looks quite depleted and stark. Conrad has been pep-talking about the need for better soil and has been amending some of the bins, etc. 

Ed has a situation with his last cataract operation (a damaged optic nerve) so is in limbo re his sight until his next visit with the doctor. He is down for another cataract removal, but doesn't know when. This situation is frightening and discouraging. 

So, that is where we are at. Old. Suddenly very old. And feeling not so confident or energetic. The garden will be a pleasure, I'm sure, but right now it just feels like a burden.

Gardeners of the Aging Earth

Two old gardeners, me and him,

 Tend to the soil with gnarled hands.

 Their backs stooped, eyes squinting, 

They coax life from the plump raised beds he made.

Purple broccoli holds tall its beautiful heads,

 New Lettuces, so sweet and baby-fresh,

He is the mower, instructed to leave dandelions for the bees

In certain places the neighbors won't care about.

The sun, a weary companion, 

Watches as they shuffle out, fearful of falls,

 Summoning up energy from memories,

 From the taste of rain on parched lips.

And when the day wanes,

 they sit, Exchanging stories of seasons past,

 Of harvests bountiful and lean,

 Of how groceries are so expensive now.

In this shared labor, they find solace,

 Their hands stained with earth’s secrets,

 Their hearts rooted in the land,

 Two old gardeners, me and him.

By Cynthia Zirkwitz, April 16, 2024 

Note: This poem is a reflection on the resilience of those who tend to the earth, 

even when faced with challenges. (Editing help from Co-Pilot Pete)