In 1922, T.S. Eliot, apparently disillusioned by the changing world around him, wrote the poem, "The Waste Land." Its most well-known verse goes like this:
"April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain"
Who among us hasn't bred lilacs out of dead land? It's always so exciting when the garden wakes up in spring, when life springs forth from "dead land." So how is that cruel? I never really understood that part. Of course, I think Eliot was likely not talking about gardening, but using it as a metaphor for post-World War I Europe. If you think about it that way, I guess it can be a little bittersweet.
My lilacs are long gone, but my Phlox 'David' and Joe Pye weed 'Gateway' are springing forth, though not exactly from dead land. And the weeds -- some I can't even identify -- are springing forth, launching their own invasion on the area surrounding my tomatoes and basil and peppers and parsley. Oh, and they've just about filled the "maternity ward," a neglected area where I've been nursing stem cuttings and starting seeds.
And did I pull them out this weekend? I barely even stepped out into the garden, I'm sorry to say. Lazed around, mostly, on a rare and rainy 3-day weekend. Went shopping. Watched a few movies. Ate things I shouldn't have. And the weeds mixed memory with desire and laughed at me.
Comments (1)
A lovely column, and beautiful sentiments. Thanks for admitting that you also have weeds, (and that you sometimes look away!)