One gardener's observations, discoveries and random thoughts whilst simultaneously worshipping and dallying in a Cape Cod garden. "A garden," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is like those pernicious machineries which catch a man's coatskirt or his hand, and draw in his arm, his leg and his whole body to irresistable destruction."

Monday Monday

A cloudy morning started us off today and it sort of matched the mood of my heart. It’s funny how it changes a little like the tide lately.

I have chosen with no regret, and seem to be finding happiness wherever I look. And yet still there are things I wish had been different, that sometimes make me a little sad.

I miss the Garden, wonder what is happening along the fence, if the rest of the mums have begun to bloom yet, and if the cosmos ever really started blooming, and if any of them turned out to be seashell shaped.

I have a few roots I would like to extract still, particularly some irises only recently planted there. One or two of them promising to be purple. And maybe a little red dianthus. So I will be heading to Harwich one carefully chosen day soon and I’ll be sure to bring the camera along, to show you what I find.


I had to pull over at Rock Harbor when I got a look at the sky over the bay as I headed for work this morning. I’m sorry I didn’t notice until I was back behind the wheel and driving what the sky behind me looked like…it was pretty amazing looking. Sorry to tease with just the mention.

Hey, this really bugs me. The property you see here used to be a nice wild patch of woods, all trees and wildflowers. And then last year they cleared most of the lot and built this McMansion. It happens WAY too often on Cape Cod lately.

That was enough of an abomination, a crime against nature, to me…and then this week, they took down another tree or two and hoisted this great banner, which is spotlight-illuminated by night and day. It’s a pretty residential area and anyway, I bet its not zoned for nightlit billboards…so add disregard for the law to raping the land, needless power consumption and reshaping the world in one’s self-important image. Yep, sounds like an apt advertisement for the candidates.

Oh, I’m getting all itchy thinking about it. Here, let’s chill with a bachelor button instead.


As you can see, I got more painting done in the living room this evening. It took a little while to sketch in the crow. I wanted to make sure it looked just right before doing anything with the permanance of black paint.

I’m pretty happy with how its looking right now.

Remember way back on September 13th, when I was painting the bedroom with Cape Cod Gray and tapped the end of the roller on my palm?

I did sort of like the pattern that made…especially as my mind began to transform it into some kind of stylized cave painting version of the sun. And when Patrick suggested in comment that it represented a Brand New Day, I knew it had to be front and center in my plans for the living room.

In fact, it kind of brought together the idea of the garden as cave painting.


It was very important, though, to make the sun a big icon in the scheme of things, and it had to be perfectly round…so I needed something big and round to trace.

In a stroke of luck, I found this pristine metal garbage can lid in the barn outside. What a find! Not only is it perfectly round and just as big as I’d hoped…but also one of those lids that feels fun in your hand, you know, like you’ve just picked up a great shield and are ready for battle…well, would be, if you also had a sword, and even the slightest clue what to do with it.

I lit my butterfly candle this evening with thoughts toward an orange tiger-striped buddy of mine – Mom and Dad’s Dewey cat – who seems to have wandered away from the house in Connecticut they’ve all just moved into this past week.

I wish him courage and bravery and resourcefulness, and whatever else he needs to make a safe return happen. And meantime, hugs and the power of positive thinking are sent to Mom and Dad.

It’s like a mania: tonight I stenciled some more leaves on this particular tree part of the living room wall. I almost think there are enough now…but we’ll see what tomorrow brings.

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between a man who cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said.

Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451, 1950.
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