A Garden of Life

I step outside to greet the new day, sinking my toes into the cool blades of grass and make my way over to my favorite place on Weathervane Road: my garden. The pumpkins are round and bright like the fiery orange sun as it sinks into the vast ocean during a Caribbean sunset. I remember the day when I planted these with my father in early summer – just tiny seeds then, in an empty garden. The green vines are twisting around the rich brown soil like one of Medusa’s hissing, slithery tangles. Their vibrant green leaves draping over the vines as an elephant’s ear drapes majestically over its gray, leathery head. The cucumber plants poking their way out of the soil like a baby turtle emerging from the sand, beginning its journey to the sea. The bright tomatoes as round and red as a clown’s nose at a children’s circus bring back memories that make me cringe. The adjacent sunflowers stretching towards the sun like a newborn child’s first gaze up at the woman who gave him life. The array of colors of other flowers and plants remind me of a painted sky after a violent storm. My last gaze is the wooden fence, standing guard like the frozen soldiers at Buckingham Palace. Soon winter will come with its chilling grip and I will have to watch the garden shrivel, and await the season of renewal – spring, when the garden will come to life once again.