A Gardener's Lament

It is a sad time of year for a gardener. All around you is death. Sure, the optimistic people will take this opportunity to point out that spring will come, and a new season of gardening will arrive, and all that is dead will be born again. But right now, all I can see is death all around me.

When I look at my garden I see the skeletal remains of the bean house looming over me. All my dahlias are dead, they are blackened and leaning over some are lying prone on the ground.

I am pursued by regret. I should have picked their last flowers. Now, there are no more flowers left in the garden. What about my frozen kale, leeks and broccoli. Will they survive? Should I have covered them? Why did I fail them so?

I don’t deserve to be called a gardener.

My larder is empty. All the potatoes are gone. There is no more fresh fruit or vegetables to pick from the garden. I must now shop for my greens, and even in the stores, the only good choices are the cole crops and girl cannot live on cole alone. I know this because I have tried.

And the sky is grey.