The Final Act
The essence of life is death and renewal. We may not notice this within our own lives, because our life cycles are so long, nonetheless, the cycles are there. My mother lived to ripe old age, she was 87 when she died, and by that point, her kids were all grown and settled. Her grandkids were also almost grown too, with the oldest being 24 years old. At family gatherings, my mother’s place had moved from the center (being part of a team of sisters who cooked the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners) to the sidelines, when she was happy to watch the younger women cook, while she sipped a glass of Rosé.
Now the grandkids (my son, and his cousins) are moving past youth to full adulthood, so it will soon be time for our generation to sit on the sidelines.
The cycles in the garden are much more obvious. We are at the end of this year’s growth cycle, with the remaining leaves dry and falling, and the once bright summer flowers flattened.
The death cycle should not be completely gloomy – in a long life, like with my late mother, the story of her death was mostly that of a life well lived. The garden’s cycle is even more tinged with hope. The fall presents fleeting glimmers of dazzle, at least up north, as our various leaves change to bright golden yellows and brilliant reds. The brilliance last for only a few days or weeks at the most, and then it’s over.
In our bodies, this is the song known as apoptosis (Greek, by the way, for “falling leaves”) — programmed cell death. When apoptosis fails, another, malignant music is played within the body. It is the growth known as cancer.
i was curious if instead you might make a snide comment about another garden metaphor. and snide-ness would have been ok too.
I suppose anything from that little song I posted on my page would do. “Life’s a piece of shit/when you look at it…”
one thought i had, and it might as well be placed here, is that my constant return to the garden is just another example of what everyone who writes should remember, and that is, to write about what you know.
i have done yard work, weeding and planting for decades – since about age 9, so 49 years. and owned the current yard for a dozen years. i’ve touched every square inch – dug through roots to dig a place for new trees, and filled beds with peat moss and fertilizer so that they would eventually become plantable. i never use poisons, except the rare wasp and ant killer and even then, applied only where needed.
i know my subject well.
That’s a lesson for the political pundits, especially the jerks who write about foreign policy without any idea of the subject. Krauthammer on Iran, Kristol on just about anything. If those two gave up foreign affairs and started writing about gardening, you wouldn’t hear me complaining…