Renewal

"Inch by inch,
and row by row,
this is how
our gardens grow."

In the 80's, I was part of a wonderful community of alternative lifestyle musicians and creative artists of all kinds, based around a coffeehouse called Brock and Friends. When I first walked in the door, I knew I was Home. I entered frozen solid with trauma, and those lovely people shone their smiles and the light of their love on me till I thawed out and my petals began to unfurl.

The song above is one that my friend Roger used to play and sing, the rest of us often joining in........the live music was wonderful in that little house full of plants, stained glass and healthy veggie food.

That place changed my life. I wrote this poem, way back then. I also grew a huge backyard garden, in those days, to feed my hungry kids: row upon row of watermelons, cantelopes, peas, beans, corn, tomatoes, everything you can think of. I had a fat rabbit who wandered up and down the aisles munching, and who would lie beside me as I weeded.

In March, in Kelowna, the ground was still frozen, hard, and unyielding. But soon the sun would come and I would once again be planting my garden.

My friends said the little nature fairies must be working with me in the garden, everything was so lush. Those were happy years.

You might like to read the short prose piece I wrote about the coffeehouse here:

http://stardreamingwithsherrybluesky.blogspot.com/2010/07/brock-and-friends.html

RENEWAL
March 3, 1981


Tiny stirrings,
Buds curled, waiting,
Limp, brown grasses
trying to turn green,
A busy twittering of birds
too long silent
in the bare brown branches
of winter........


Soon I'll be planting seeds
in warm, dark earth,
watching greenness growing
where once a wasteland lay,
Letting the seeds go
to grow
whichever way
they want to grow,
having finally learned
to just let living flow.


Perhaps a wondering lurks
within my eyes this year
as I start my slow walk back
from Siberian retreat.


The last frozen wastes
are melting near my heart
and tentatively
-oh, more carefully
this time-
I ponder what new thing
might emerge
from this springtime
of possibilities
I see.


I think
it might be nice
to plant something
besides carrots here
this year.

I read this poem once at poetry night, and everyone chuckled at these last lines. Brock gave me a hug and asked the room at large: "Doesnt she look cute with her long purple dress and her black leggings?" Beautiful people. Happy years. A gift in my life.