Friday, March 6, 2009

Post Humus

I'm not a vegetable gardener. I have no luck with them. I focus entirely on flowers and just trying to keep one-third acre of mostly xeriscaping and some grass under control. It's a big job and takes a lot of my summer time. But I enjoy it truly and right now I'm itching to get out there. I got just a small start last weekend while it was warm, doing some spring cleanup. But everything is covered with snow again and yardwork is on hold. I know I need to get a life. I'm going with Jenn and Zach to a bike swap tomorrow and maybe I'll buy a bike just for something different from my walking.

Here's my favorite gardening poem:


Scatter my ashes in my garden
so I can be near my loves.
Say a few honest words, sing a gentle song,
join hands in a circle of flesh.
Please tell some stories about me
making you laugh. I love to make you laugh.
When I've had time to settle, and green
gathers into buds, remember I love blossoms
bursting in spring. As the season ripens
remember my persistent passion.
And if you come in my garden
on an August afternoon
pluck a bright red globe,
let juice run down your chin and the seeds
stick to your cheek. When I'm dead
I want folks to smile and say..."That Patti,
she sure is some tomato!"

by Patti Tana
From "When I am OLD WOMAN I Shall Wear Purple"


troutbirder said...

How sweet. I like it. Being a gardener too.

Jacqui Binford-Bell said...

I don't think, Bekkieann, that it is ever too late for one more poem. And the one you posted is delightful. Thanks for joining in.

And yes, bury my ashes in my garden. Great place.

Bee said...

What a super poem!
Tomato? I like that!

Jacqui Binford-Bell said...

Oooops, I meant NEVER to late. Not enough coffee when I posted that comment this morning.

bekkieann said...

I think the reason I love that last line the most, in addition to the wonderful double entendre, is remembering my grandpa saying something like this to my very cute grandma, "You're some tomato, Toots!" And she was!

Treesparrow said...

now thats my kind of poem. I love the thought of my ashes helping something grow. Thanks for joining the tour :)

Dangerous Meredith said...

We have a family joke that when we all die we want to be chucked on the compost heap (my parents are keen gardeners). This was a gorgeous poem and this would be an ideal way to be remembered.