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Entering the garden

I see my true nature.

In its reflection

my heart is at peace.

~ from ‘Mindfulness in the Garden‘

 

These days, nothing’s taken for granted; every moment is a gift. There’s magic in deep September mornings, leaning in for October’s golden kiss. How blessed to have one more day, one more cup of coffee on the front porch, paying attention to sparkling webs, birds, and the rustle of leaves.

It’s all fleeting, so even more precious is what I love most: You. Books. Art. Gardens. Nature. Things with a story. Just simple ‘little’ things that bring the heart alive and ticking one more day. Breast cancer hasn’t won, not yet. It could, but I know something it doesn’t.

Heavy rain pouring in my bedroom windows from rotting overflowing gutters makes me curse, but I get the feisty backbone out and send the video to landlords.

To top it off, the newest tenant’s boyfriend roars in on his bald-tired wanna-be Harley, parks, stomps up steps–then from up above through railing, pees down in the garden I made here, onto the fig tree I have in a large pot. He hoofs off while zipping, vaping down the sidewalk. He must have been deaf, because I swear there was more cursing around here!

That’s the same fig I’ve loved and nurtured with tenderness and the very one I’ve been planning to take over and plant for a friend in town who not-so-long-ago lost her soulmate to cancer. It’s my way of remembering him and their love, to keep his memory and spirit blooming every year, the sweetness of late-summer figs to lighten her heart.

Heck, I’m not proud. I’ve peed in the woods a time or two. Maybe three. Sort of quietly, with nobody around but the woods! But when someone just doesn’t care, whether it’s landlords or someone who openly pees on a beloved art/garden/heart, what does it say? I wouldn’t have minded if it was a discreet pile of leaves somewhere. But…there at the street level, across from a church, and down on my garden treasure—whoa.

The story gets better, though. In a nutshell, the fig got transported the next afternoon to my friend’s house, and a lot of people have gotten a good laugh, too. My Molly T. found out what happened and then sent a handsome, good human and his adorable 8-year-old daughter Lydia to the rescue. He lifted that heavy pot, toted it down steps, and loaded ‘er in his truck. It was a sight: all of us truckin’ down the street, fig waving, Lydia laughing in the wind.

Good humans overcome jackasses that disrespect someone’s beloved garden plants. FYI: the last word(s) were mine. I got home after all this, pulled a few weeds and what do you know–here comes the Pee Perp with girlfriend back from their day out. Gave him a life lesson that he shoulda learned a long time ago, and said should he wish to pee on something from now on, it would not be my garden.

Have some respect; don’t pee in public or across from a church, dude.

At least find a discreet leaf pile if you’re that desperate. What would his mother say?

Well, Dear Reader, Pee Pot had to own it after being called on the deed. Sheepishly, he admitted the crime, said he hoped he hadn’t killed the fig (guilt is a great tool!), apologized, and promised it’d never happen again (uh huh, right), his clueless girlfriend chiming in the sorry bit. (Girl, date dudes with some class.)

The ole heart is melting all over the place. Good humans, I like to think, win.

Feel free to contact me at bbardos@gmail.com, (828) 817-6765, P.O. Box 331, Saluda, NC 28773, Facebook, or visit bonniebardos.com