Jim Siergey: The Garden

July 28th, 2019

The garden was thriving. It was abundant with various colors and species that had learned to co-exist and grow together. After all, their roots all intermingled in the same soil.

The colors grew more vibrant with each passing season. Each plant stood proud and tall, its leaves opened up in a pose of welcome. It was almost as if they wished to embrace you.

Certainly there were weeds. There was no escaping them. But they were unable to get much of a roothold in this burgeoning garden so they mostly stayed hidden under the wide swaths of leaves. The flowers knew the weeds were there but they had, over time, overcome their ruthlessness.

But, out of sight, out of mind is not a good philosophy to abide by. The weeds, though hidden from view, grew denser as they spread underfoot, or to be more exact, underleaf.

Meanwhile, the garden had welcomed even more varieties into their fold. More intense colors were displayed along with an array of diverse petal shapes and leaf formations. The garden looked so vibrant and happy that one could almost taste the joy.

siergeygardenIn my garden…

 

The weeds resented this photosynthetic resilience by the flowering plants. They did not like the welcoming and proliferation of new species. They resented being denied their share of the sunlight and blue skies. It was as if they no longer mattered.The more they didn’t matter, the more they muttered.

Clouds covered the sun and the rains came, as they usually did, but this time it was a different kind of rain. The flowers’ thirst was not slaked by these droplets from the sky. In fact, they tasted terrible. Some of the plants felt poisoned. They began to wither and die. On other plants, leaves began turning brown and petals began to dry up and drop heavily to the ground. Sparseness intervened.

The weeds, however, loved this new rain. They greedily drank it up, slurping vociferously, and expanding their base. They felt renewed and stronger as they began to push their way past the withering flowers. It had been a long time since they were able to develop a choke hold on the beautiful garden.  At last, their time had come again and they were making the most of it.

Knotweed, Deadnettle, Carpetweed, Spotted Spurge, Morning Glories, Ragweed, Thistles, Dodders, Poison Ivy and the Common Couch all grew to greater proportions than ever. They spread and strangled the flowers until the garden looked like a war zone. The flowers held their ground but the skies remained cloudy and the noxious rain continued to fall.

The garden resisted the weeds the best they could but a return to their formal glory of beauty and togetherness looked bleak.  Their hope for a bright future, free of the fear of weeds, now hinged on two things, a change in the weather and the appearance of a compassionate gardener.

They looked to the sky and they listened for footsteps.

 

Editor’s note: Jim’s last post for The Third City was The Process

 

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