New Life

I was walking out to the car a few days ago and saw these peeking through the rocks, right next to our drain pipe. 

Chives. 

They have been there ever since we moved in. We moved in on a cold, snowy December day, so didn't see many of our garden flowers and herbs until several months later. At first, I thought they were grass tufts but soon their pungent scent changed my mind. 

What in the world were chives doing there? It made no sense. It is in the front of our house in an awkward little section that holds a stone bench with a long drain pipe directly in front of it. Rocks circle around the border. Yet, there they were, proud as punch and letting us know that hey...they were here and they were not going anywhere. So...we left them. They were abundant...so fruitful that every year I dried them out on screens in the basement and then sliced them up, placed them in bottles and gave them out to neighbors, friends, and family every year for Christmas. 

We found lots of volunteers in our yard. Roma tomatoes that bloom against our back yard fence, feeding the birds and other critters, including us, all Summer. Pink peonies in every shade imaginable. Several large day lilies. Black-Eyed Susans, Lilies of the Valley (these are perched right next to the back porch and their smell is intoxicating) and tiny peeking violets. We used to plant a big garden every year, but now we just stick to tomatoes, peppers, and lots of herbs. 

We do have several rose bushes on the side of our house. They are incredibly vain and persnickety, but I pamper them. I like a good, haughty plant. Plus, if you tend them properly, they repay you with such tender beauty. On the other side of our house are a large spray of Japanese asters that were supposedly annual, but have come back every single year for eight straight years, so I guess they must like us. 

I talk to my flowers. I talk to my trees. 

In private. I'm not stupid. Besides, these are private conversations. 

When I saw those chives, I was nearly overcome. I was not sure if I would be around to see them bloom this year. I had sincerely hoped that I would be here, but the future is not something that I just assume will come anymore. Everything is always up in the air. So, seeing those chives felt like a small victory, I suppose. When I first found out that I had terminal cancer, it was late November and everything had shut down already. I hadn't had a chance to tell them goodbye. So, this felt lucky to me. 

I sat on the stone bench in the bright sunlight and reached down and let my fingers run through the chive sprouts. 

There you are and so gorgeous! I am so very glad to see you peeking out like that! Hard to believe that just two weeks ago, there was nearly four feet of snow over you, huh? Well, now it is all melted and you can use all that water to get through the drier days coming, okay? I just wanted to say hello and to tell you what's been going on. I found out that I have cancer a few months ago. I would have shared it with you, but you were already sleeping for the Winter. But, now...well....I want you to know that I plan to come say hello a lot for as long as I can. And thank you in advance for all the deliciousness you are going to put into our sandwiches and salads. You are so green and your shoots are so strong! I am so pleased that you are here. Thank you. Thank you! 

Sounds corny, right? Fuck you. I read an article recently where scientists had discovered that trees actually have heartbeats. Really? It took you this long to figure that out? I could have told you that. Trees have heartbeats. So, do plants. They want to live so badly and ask for so little. They are so much better than we are. They give and give and give and never ask for anything except for some soil and a bit of water. I adore my trees and plants. 

Well, I suppose that rose bushes are not as free with their love as most plants. They make you work for it. But, that's okay. Like some humans, they are worth the extra work you have to put in to get to know them. 

After I visited with the chives, I went to go get into the car to go to the grocery store and grab some milk. I looked over the car door at those chives. They were as green as emeralds and their faint oniony scent wafted over to me, saying goodbye. 

For now. Goodbye for now. 

And hey? Thank you so much for coming. You have no idea how much I need this sort of shit now.