One of my frame customers just walked in with a bag of Dahlia tubers for me.
A few years ago I had hundreds of Dahlias planted in my garden, as well as dozens of bouquets (honest!) in the house all summer into fall. I lost interest when my friend, Andy, died; he was an avid gardener as well and the tubers were kept in burlap bags in his basement. I just never had the heart to plant them that year, and by the next, of course, they had all shriveled and died.
Last year I didn’t plant anything either. But this year the sadly neglected outdoors is urging me to come out and play in it. Heal my soul and sense of life with the good earth.
I’ve just gotten the kick I needed. This Memorial Day weekend will return me to the tradition I let go of because in death, I couldn’t find the reason for the life. Maybe it doesn’t really need to justify itself at all.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology