The People Behind My Eyes

I bet gardeners are peaceful people. You ever seen a gardener turned serial killer? Nope, you don’t. You ever see a stalker turn to gardening? Nope, not unless it’s in front of the window of his peeping interest. People with dirt under their nails and in serious need of a manicure are actually people we should aspire to emulate. Then of course there’s me and my strange garden, where plants go to die. I saw some beautiful plants at Target one time but I swear I heard one of them say, “oh damn, isn’t that Austin? Act like you’re already dead!” the little bud beside him exclaimed, “I thought she was just an urban legend?” I realized that these plants were too beautiful just to take them home and kill them. The big bud god’s answered the hysteric prayers of their green subjects and I left them there. “That was close” said the little bud. A lonely tear fell down my face ‘cause I knew it was true, I almost killed yet another plant. With my head low, I shuffled along to the cooking isle where I belonged, leaving behind the lawn and garden department and my pride.

It would be a few years before I’d have my hand at planting again but I’ll never forget the fear in little buds voice as he cried out to big leaf above for protection from this green- thumber. Dare I say I have a green thumb when the green is actually gangrene? I couldn’t keep a plant alive if my life depended on it. The plants I buy die minutes after I bring them in my house. I think they sense the smell of plants that died before them … that smell of death sticking to the walls and the stench clinging to fake leaves of the artificial plants. It’s sad when you think about it really. Real gardeners, on the other hand, are some of the best people on earth. It seems they have an appreciation for the fragile and the beautiful, which usually they are one in the same. They work with the ground to make it healthy for life and that has got to feel good. I have the kiss of death on my thumb but still this new go around at strange garden has produced little sprouts of basil and lavender. Have I gotten a glimpse of what it feels like when a real gardener has successful growth? Did my smile gleam half as brightly as that of an accomplished “earth turner”? Maybe I could never touch that kind of green joy but my own was certainly a pleasure welcome. I was thrilled beyond expectation.

There is such a feeling of accomplishment even though all I did was dump a package of seeds into a bucket of dirt and an empty glass bottle. But man, I had so much riding on those half price seeds. I don’t know why it seemed so important that these things grow this time. Despite my dark past, there are signs of life in these make shift nurseries. I’m so proud of them. The roommate drove by the window the other morning and I know he thought I was out of my mind. The sun wasn’t shining but if the little buds could feed off the joy radiating as I smiled over them then they would have instantly grown 10 feet tall. My roommate must have been blinded by the big cheese smile I had on my face. He doesn’t say much about my strange behaviors. He better not if he knows what’s good for him.

I think what real gardeners do for the earth is limitless. They may have their little corners of beauty but the garden groups and clubs they belong to stretch across the earth. That means there are flowers planted in corners we never even thought of so that these corners can potentially become that perfect resting spot for a mind in need of quick retreat. Maybe one day this dark cloud will lift and I’ll plant a garden I can be proud of. I might even aspire to join a gardening club. For now I’ll sit in my strange garden on the stone walk lined with citronella candles and silk trees placed Feng Shui style, sipping half empty glasses of sun burned tea with the smell of menthol cigarettes burning beside me. Somewhere between the tea and the menthol

I’ll bend to pray the strange garden prayer.

O lord of plants that do not die

Savior of buds and leaves that turn their attention to your greatness

Let them live!

In your infinite power, let them live!

Joan of Arc, on the wrong side of sanity