Today,
I was asked
to help with the general clean-up of the yard.
It’s…
an annual thing, of course: getting
flower beds
clear
for the season to come,
And I can’t help
but think
back
to that day
in April,
when we were cleaning the yard
and the call came
about my brother
I know
yard work needs doing, and
I do it, and
I’m still rooted
in that moment
every
time
And this year,
as I worked my way
around the side of the house,
cleaning up the daylily bed,
I cleared away the old growth,
and I was surprised by
the green shoots revealed beneath.
I don’t know
why I wasn’t expecting
to see them –
after all,
hasn’t the weather been good? and
isn’t it that time of year? and
isn’t that the way of plants in spring? and
isn’t that the way of spring? and
I thought,
Yard work is a poem,
waiting to
teach me
I must
(in good time, understand:
winter is still winter)
clear myself away
to make room.
Thanks, as always, for the Two Writing Teachers March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Check ’em out!
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 
Your poem is about way more than yard work and the drudgery of spring clean up. Your post “dug up” literally and figuratively the memories of your brother and the phone call and all the grief that surrounds spring and its chores. I hope you can find some peace and hope in the new growth and the colors of spring amid your scars and healing. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
Thanks. It’s weird, because there are so many things that toss me into one moment or another, they feel like just an ordinary part of my life’s fabric: songs that come on the radio, the thought of a daily phone call, passing a certain product in the grocery story. None of them are very deep or sharp, just…ever-present.
“And I can’t help/but think/back/to that day/in April,/when we were cleaning the yard/and the call/came/about my brother.”
Not knowing the backstory here, I can only imagine this is the call we all hope we never get.
I have worked out a lot of grief in a garden. But I have never viewed yard work as a poem. Thank you for this, and for the idea that we have to till the ground of our own souls. It’s so healing when the seasons roll on with consistency and with their surprises, like new green shoots and blooms.
Beautiful poem.
Stephanie, one of the things people love (or don’t!) about me is that pretty much everything is a poem, and I find myself living in metaphor more often than not.
And oh! yes, there is so much out there about nurturing ourselves as our own garden. New seasons, new surprises, new growth indeed…
Wow… I do a lot of gardening and I always get lost in thoughts. Sometimes a Shakespearean quote comes into my mind like “tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed, things rank and gross in nature possess it merely” from Hamlet. But I certainly get the connection you have to grief, finding out about your brother while doing yard work. Incredible piece, Lainie.
Thanks. This piece, kind of like those daylily shoots, came up and out of nowhere. As for me, I can get lost in thought pretty much doing anything =)
I’m also thinking more about the quote from Hamlet, and how a garden going to seed can be unsightful…and yet, sometimes there’s beauty in that as well…
See? Getting lost in thought again. Let me know if you find a map!
Gardening gives you lots of time to think and ponder. Lovely poem!
Thank you! Wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but I’m pleased with it.
My poetry skills are definitely better than my gardening ones!
I breathed through this poem. Feeling the sense of being outdoors, the act of clearing, the process of reflection tempered by surprise discovery – your poem brought me into the present moment.
Thanks, Sherri. It means the world. “I breathed through this poem.”
Thank you. =)
You reach deep with this poem. We never know what we will be doing when a certain memory its. We need to clear space to make room, but some things just keep coming back.
Yes, they do. And I can’t even say it’s entirely unpleasant, even the unpleasant memories. They are, after all, memories. I’d rather have them than nothing at all.
I agree gardening is a great time to get lost in thought and the thoughts may not always be the best if a sad memory is involved.
Agreed! And I was saying in a different comment, it’s not entirely bad to me that the difficult memories emerge. They are reminders of how much joy it brings me to love with wholeness and ferocity.
Oh, so beautiful. Thank you. I love so many of these lines, and especially “in good time, understand:
winter is still winter”
Thanks, Natasha. That was one of my favorite lines – like, I need to remember that there will be times where growth is absent, where hope has faded, and that it’s a natural part to this human cycle.