A quiet morning in the garden
Quiet, save for an occasional chirp or plane's low hum
The weathered gate closed
The wind gentle
The iron bell sways without clanging
Fleshy-leafed succulents nestle in mosaic patterns
A lizard skitters behind a pot
A single trumpet flower, moon glow yellow, dances in the breeze
A handful of green apple ripen on branches
An ever so slight dusting of fallen Jacaranda blossoms
Purple.
No.
More the rainbow's violet.
A lone floret settles on the dwarf pomegranate which sits poised in the shadow of the elegantly dead tree.
Its' trunk, shaped like the torso of a slender woman, soars three stories high.
Overhead the sky is grey.
A colorless day.
Unusual for July in my part of the world.
Perhaps the sun will appear late afternoon.
Or not.
The umbrella undulates shading no one.
The garden, a popular and safe spot during pandemic times, is empty.
Where are the people?
On highways crossing the country. Skyways. Skyscrapers
Up and down escalators, elevators
Art museums. Aquariums. Movies.
Swimming pools. Car pools. Pool halls.
Galleries. Galas. Baseball games.
Gathering elsewhere.
The garden waits.
My artist friend, Bess, sent me this image of her latest work which she said was "In response to your serine sound and color gardening experiences block..." Subject line read Wild Flowers Having a Wild Time!
The artist had just returned from NYC where she was inspired to paint this by friends, Wendy and David. They had recently moved outside the city, got a plot in an organic community garden and found themselves continually amazed how everything grows. They did admit to being confused about what to weed and what to keep!