I was feeling less than READY that day. I sat in my usual spot at the table. I had pen, paper, a cup of coffee, and my laptop for when it would be time to send the column to my editor. I stared out the window, watching birds SWOOP and flutter, negotiating with the squirrels for the seed I had put out. The usual questions swirled in my head: Could I put it off longer? Would it matter if I were being paid more than CHUMP change to churn out these columns? Was it time to take out the laundry?

As usual, my answers to all of the questions were “No.” I picked up the stack of printed emails, put on my “Aunt Mary” persona dispensing advice to all and sundry, and began.

That is when it happened, the moment that changed everything. Looking back, I can’t – but wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Like I told the police, I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I heard the THUMP. (When I get going as “Aunt Mary” answering queries, saving marriages, and wiping away the tears of my public, I tend to lose track of time.) Like I told the police, I really couldn’t understand why a body would be dumped unceremoniously in my root cellar.

Georg’ann

Seed season again

Packets spread across the table
new ones impulsively purchased,
and those left from last year, most still unopened
year after year, varieties of snow peas, zinnias, sunflowers, spinach, arugula, radishes, and beets.

Always more seeds than I can possible PLANT,
Ideas like the butterflies, bees and hummingbirds
I imagine flittering from blossom to blossom

Standing on the STOOP, donning a ridiculous GETUP,
I gaze across the yard
content to let the garden TRUMP all else today

Sprinkling specks of brown into expanses of brown
giving each a tender little THUMP
this gesture, with one’s index finger,
part of so many daily tasks

No green thumb needed
to yield bountiful beauty
even if not a single seed sprouts,
even if most remain in their packets,
I tended, allowed, accepted
my true nature
grateful for what I already had

Heather