The City Gardener #5

Death. Life.

Two things a gardener must deal with. It is hard enough to contain the excitement when your sprouts finally bloom, but when those little tikes take a tumble, it’s even harder to cope. Worst of all, is when the gardener is at fault.

Or so it would seem.

I assume I am the only one to blame. My giddiness of witnessing my assorted lettuce, beets and arugula come to life has passed onto me an overactive watering cycle. Like the proud mother who "unknowingly" feeds her child candy until his jowls wiggle in-sync with his belly in laughter, my children grew strong—until I drowned them when they were only a few weeks old.

Take in the spectacle of my destruction. Weep with me in mourning…

And then we cry in joy. As some survivors were strong enough to be transplanted this weekend. See the tiny tots in their recycled buckets brimming with fresh soil and a place in the sun. Don’t we all deserve a place in the sun? I even threw on some new seeds so they can soon make new friends.

And then I will eat them.


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