The Lover's Alamanac
When is your Spring? Folks in the world cycle crops to their individual
climate. Waiting for the ground to thaw. Waiting for enough sunshine.
Our relationship season. We wait for our hearts to shake off the ice. Searching the skies for the right forecast. Making sure that the ground won’t freeze too soon again. Making sure when we give things a chance that Mother Nature won’t sever our efforts.
Our relationship season. We wait for our hearts to shake off the ice. Searching the skies for the right forecast. Making sure that the ground won’t freeze too soon again. Making sure when we give things a chance that Mother Nature won’t sever our efforts.
Warmth is imperative. The spirit of things being planted must be complimented
with irrigation and care. Without these things the ground is unusable. The
ability to harvest and share with others is obsolete.
For what we seek is more than a project. A beautiful garden, perhaps a collage
of projects in a flower bed. But, like relationships, they require space and
attention. Elements to help them succeed. Perhaps a prize-winning love affair. Blue
ribbons for size and acumen. These are the connections we aspire to have.
Efforts to survive. Where would our lives be without chances and love? Our
emotional diet of healthy stress. Dry ground yields no crops. Without love to
share we are strangers. Infighting for low quality, if any, contact with
another. Knowing the seasons helps us to develop our methods.
We till the ground when the time is right. Plant hopes and dreams. Then we
weather through the ecosystem in search of a plentiful bounty. Enough to get us
through the winter. Like the assessment of love being better known and lost- than
to never have experienced.
We consider it a crime to force fornication. We can’t manufacture love. There’s
no alternative science for the spirit. Purity. The true organic is what we can
cultivate in our own gardens. A community effort. The affection and acknowledgement
from others. The journey toward sacred vows.
Paying someone else for their love and time needs no sunshine. The ladies of
the night. Impure and misled astray. Nothing can be exchanged to supplement
your own horticulture. Having roots. Working through the struggles.
Taking on the task of trimming back as needed. Pruning and propping
things up as they expand and carry more weight. A lifelong love affair. Making
sure to water your own when the world doesn’t give quite enough precipitation. Through
the winter. In a greenhouse. Embracing pesticides. Sometimes quality is sacrificed
just to make harvest. Others have embraced a lifetime of natural science.
Perfecting their love for all seasons.
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Soundtrack... And one of my favorite songs:
