Garden Thoughts Bloom In The Bleak Mid-Winter
Although it’s pretty darned wintry here at R&S HQ, we thought we’d share a poem that anticipates a greener season.
Enjoy “Gardens” by R&S subscriber Casey Crosby.
My grandparents still remember my name
but they forgot about their gardens. I think
of how years ago they would harvest peas
and rhubarb and tomatoes and sometimes squash,
paid me a quarter if I picked enough blueberries.
I’d wrap seeds in paper napkins, cradle each
I still don’t really understand photosynthesis, but
they showed me to care for both the green things
and the brown things, that these families, fabaceae,
umbelliferae, solanaceae, they’re ours too,
that my veins are also vines and I am breathing
in both dust and glory.
Their land has been uncultivated for some time
now, but I remember blossoms, rhizomes, yes.
I think it’s true that we come from dirt.
Casey Crosby is a sophomore English major at Whitworth University in Spokane, Washington. She’s a proud Oregon native and lover of mountains and trees. If she’s not reading or writing, you can probably find her in a coffee shop, a thrift store, or settling in for another Netflix marathon.