Deadlines loom this weekend. I have three articles due at once and have largely spent the last three days at the kitchen table transcribing recordings of interviews. Rain has been falling off and on throughout the week and while I have sat inside working, the plants in my father’s garden have grown and bloomed.
Dad wanted tomatoes and cucumbers this year; one of only a few attempts at gardening since we lived here. A few years ago, he decided on tomatoes just in time for a tomato blight to strike the region. Yet, in his eagerness to plant his garden this time around, he seemed to forget that he would not be home. Dad travels for work and thus, the ongoing maintenance of his garden became mine. I purchased a watering can, graduated to the garden hose, battled an unwavering onslaught of weeds and even borrowed four tomato cages from my best friend to ensure the plants would not topple under their own weight. Today, on a break from the rain and my work, I went outside to discover the cucumber plants had begun to flower, a marigold-yellow blossom peeking out amidst the green. It grew under my hand, but changed under my nose while I was busy with storms and work. Life happens that way -- all our efforts eventually yielding a surprising result. Growth leads to blossoms and amidst the rain and because of our work, we bloom – bright, yellow and glorious.
