Wednesday, May 23

Words VS Life

by Margie Senechal

I wish words grew as fast as my yard. Especially, when neglected as my yard has been for the past year or so. Once my yard was beautiful and then I got involved. I started planting things and then I got busy. Too busy to deadhead, too busy to trim, just too damn busy.

Before the mow job 2018
When we were looking for houses back in 2007, one of the things that drew me to our home was this cherry tree. I grew up climbing the cherry trees that grew in the vacant lot next to my grandparent's house--which was next to our house. We lived on this little dirt road sandwiched between my maternal grandparents and great-great Aunt Marge--who I was named for.

The lot next to my grandparents was owned by the mayor of Vancouver at the time and a land baron. He never did anything with it and it flowed with wild fruit--several cherry trees including two big enough for us to climb, two thatches of blackberries, filbert aka hazelnut trees, a crab apple tree, and a decrepit little peach tree that only bore fruit once that I know of which how we realized what kind of tree it was.

After the mow job 2018
I grew up in a time when we ran wild through the fields, snacking on whatever fresh fruit was in season. Sun-warmed cherries were the best and that tree took me back. Even though my oldest had graduated and the youngest was just a year from graduating, I wanted them to experience the joy of picking their own cherries. Honestly, I don't think they ever appreciated it.

If you look at my current pictures, you may be wondering what happened to said cherry tree. It's gone as it rotted and basically split down the middle. Now, blackberries have grown up over the trunk and are the bane of my garden's existence. 

Back to the writing my garden, I have been neglecting my words. I think about writing a lot. But something happens--life, maybe?---between the thinking and the doing.  I wish that when I sat down to write the words would sprout new life like my garden tends to. I have bluebells where I never planted, the afore mentioned blackberries every freaking where, and a surprise forget-me-not trying to sustain on my curb.

....THIS?? I can't even see that stump anymore 
How did this (circa 2010)  become....
Today as I was mowing the South side field---trust me, I am not exaggerating--and I found fennel shoots growing among the fronds. 

I want my words to be as out of control as my yard. I want neglect to strengthen my muse. I want my yard to be gentle once again.

My dad is laughing right now. He'd say, "Want in one hand and poop in the other and see which fills up first." But, he'd say it in his sailor lingo with a few substitutions.

And he'd be right. I can spend all this time wanting for something different, or I can get off my duff and just write.  Here's to making our wishes come true--or at least reaching for them.


  1. I love your pictures. I'm so grateful to have grown up--and, for the most part, raised my kids--when running wild was not only acceptable and safe, but encouraged. Hope you find your words, and they're suitably wild!

    1. Me too!! Unfortunately, we had a serial killer-Wesley Allen Dodd—prey on children when I was pregnant with Jordan. We lost our innocence during that time and once you lose it, it doesn’t come back. So, my kids spent a lot less unstructured time outside.

  2. Margie - I don't even keep live plants in the house, and let the hubby deal with anything green outside (and as long as it's green, he's ok with it). So all/any of your efforts are impressive! As far as words, whether the muse grows wild and untamed or struggles to flourish at all, it's a pain in the tush because we have to trim, crop, deadhead, etc. (and I love your Dad's wisdom!!) LOL!

    1. My dad had some classics, that’s for sure :)
      And you continued my analogy in spades.

  3. absolutely, Margie! Love the pictures...

    1. Thanks, Kristi! I just look st them for confirmation of my exhaustion :)