Mom’s Garden

Mom’s garden was huge to me as a child
She’d work the land in storms and when mild
I was always lending a helping hand
The sounds, smells and tastes were so grand
Blessed as a child without realizing it
My necklace was a string of peas-a perfect fit
This gift of nourishment offered from above
The rains of spring glowing in its love
Over summer time how the field it grew
A penny for each potato bug we threw
The weeds became our friends too
As we’d cook lamb’s quarter in stew
Come the golden colors of harvest and fall
We’d wonder where we’d put it all!
Among the winter’s darkest times
We’d dream with Vesey’s catalogues behind closed blinds
Times the changed as I grew
My love of P-E-I potatoes stayed true
When I met finally met my man
He too shared a love for the land

We felt no guilt…
With will and hand we worked the land such as one sews a quilt
We dug the pond, we zenned out our place
We zoned each plant for each direction; mostly North-faced
We left our garden home we built
At that time, we felt no guilt
We left it hoping for a better world
To raise our one year old child; our tiny perfect girl
When we drive by the place we knew our hearts are filled with sorrow
Our beloved lovely place sadly had no tomorrow
The Japanese garden is now in ruins
It’s now a fireplace; such a different tune
The pond and coy are now no more
It turns out they had to soar
To the heavens; skies of yesteryear
We look at what we lost and say”Oh dear!”
The vines of fruit bear no more
It’s become quite an eyesore
The patios and house filled with love
Accepts no more wildlife, not even a dove
The bridge, the stream, the dream is no more
It’s ragged fences are falling to the floor
The only things left untouched are the bonsai plants I tended so well
The have grown to great heights they take the toll
Reaching above the telephone poles

Now time has passed at long last ; it’s time to reinvent our new land
My husband and I will again can work hand in hand
For our devotion to Earth is powerful
We’ll again get to see our friends by the bucketful
On this new land we shall do no till
If of course help from you-we will
Our dreams are filled with yearning for
A new garden of hope and so much more!

Written by Irene Doucet