Friday, June 7, 2013

An Observation by May Sarton

True gardeners cannot bear a glove

Between the sure touch and the tender root,

Must let their hands grow knotted as they move

With a rough sensitivity about

Under the earth, between the rock and shoot,

Never to bruise or wound the hidden fruit.

And so I watched my mother's hands grow scarred,

She who could heal the wounded plant or friend

With the same vulnerable yet rigorous love;

I minded once to see her beauty gnarled,

But now her truth is given me to live,

As I learn for myself we must be hard

To move among the tender with an open hand,

And to stay sensitive up to the end

Pay with some toughness for a gentle world.

                     ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Since selling my house and moving a year ago 
 and still living in temporary quarters with my
 daughter, it is the first Springtime in my adult
 life when I don't have a flower garden. I miss
 my peonies especially, and my huge climbing
 rose which should be radiant right now. 
 So I have no beautiful photos to post here this year.
 Instead I am posting a collection of Impressionist
 women in their gardens for you to enjoy!

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