{"id":53098,"date":"2019-06-23T07:30:41","date_gmt":"2019-06-23T11:30:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=53098"},"modified":"2019-06-23T07:30:41","modified_gmt":"2019-06-23T11:30:41","slug":"7-outside-my-window","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2019\/06\/7-outside-my-window\/","title":{"rendered":"7. Outside my window"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Peeking out the window I see a maple tree dressed in burgundy and alexandrite green leaves gently bobbing back-and-forth in the wind.<\/p>\n<p>I see the world through a row of horizontal blinds that outfit the window like a sunglass frame once worn in a popular music video.<\/p>\n<p>Fully formed red wine saturated leaves are contrasted against a mint green<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span>garage turned shed facing a dirt road with a gravel path that sounds like the roads \u00a0almost a century ago, minus the planes and sirens that can be heard on occasion.<\/p>\n<p>Inside my widow I see a miniature paper replica of a Japanese maple tree, with<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span>finger like leaves is in the foreground \u00a0juxtaposed against the inside glass window trying to peek through the background of a carefully curated garden with brown mulch weathered by the sun.<\/p>\n<p>It makes me even more anxious to break through the fourth stage, a willing suspension of disbelief, and go outside to pour the black mulch between the green plants blowing in the breeze as well as in between the<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0<\/span>now dry azaleas trying to mimic the richness of the black soil that<span class=\"Apple-converted-space\">\u00a0it can create<\/span>.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m convinced gardening is a mirror of our minds wild and free, a little struggle goes a long way indeed.<\/p>\n<p>All rights reserved copyright (c) 2019 Natasha Vanover<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Peeking out the window I see a maple tree dressed in burgundy and alexandrite green leaves gently bobbing back-and-forth in the wind. I see the world through a row of horizontal blinds that outfit the window like a sunglass frame once worn in a popular&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":785,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-53098","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53098","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/785"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=53098"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53098\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":57517,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/53098\/revisions\/57517"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=53098"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=53098"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=53098"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}