August

I’m not sure what we did in June and July,

but at some point in early August we looked around and saw:

The wilderness had come, as a thief in the night, and taken over.

So August was boldly dubbed the month “in which we take it back”.

I love flying specks lit up in the sun! Can you see them?

The battle of aphids and ants, on the mountains of okra, in the year of our Lord, 2015. I was there.

Just as every housekeeper has that one place of tidy, even when all else is in chaos (for me, it’s the kitchen counters), so has every gardener.

It’s a happy place, where your eyes settle in the mess, and you think-

“Well! I can fix that.”

For me, it’s the walk-ways. A clear path is the difference, in my mind, between a jungle and a garden. Just as the Lord drew the line in the sand for the waters, the borders of the bed mark the place where the proud weeds stop.

(The difference, of course, being that I’m a girl, not God, and the weeds don’t listen to me.)

August is also the month in which I say good-bye to an old year

and grow older.

“After all these years I would have thought
that all my fears were laid to rest,
but I still get scared.
And I thought that all my struggles would be
victories by now but I confess
that the mess is there.

But oh, I know the work that you began
is coming to an end someday.”