In My Garden

When spring comes, I look out at my forsythia bush

and daffodils.  A few tulips pop up as do

the chutes of  hostas  and rhododendron  blossoms.

Soon the huckleberries’ create

an intoxicating fragrance that draw the squirrels

and birds.  There is nothing like planting peonies

chrysanthemums and impatiens and patting the dark

earth down with your fingertips.

 ‘In some Native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.’*


From Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer

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