little country in the city

our garden is officially under attack!

so, we may have cultivated some land that did not in fact belong to us, but we were doing so in broad daylight with the support of all down towners. this morning as the groundskeeper Len casually walked by Sofe as she was sipping her morning coffee he uttered the words 'cabbies got yer garden last night'. we've been expecting a retaliation from the owners - we were just hoping it wouldn't be a seven foot fence, and so sofe came and found me and we went out there to survey the damage. we discovered that the real owners of the lot, a taxi cab company, had removed our donated wood boxes and two of our largest planters and to top it off kicked over our cinder blocks - just to prove they are indeed five years old. they also did it at twelve oclock at night in secret, as if it wasn't in fact their property! in response we are going to bust our pre-made 'save our garden' shirts, use brick and mortar to create our next set of boxes, and possibly stage a sit in over night to keep a close eye on things. sofe and i cracked open two beers at eight thirty this morning as we sat on the curb and laughed at the kicked over cinder blocks and just thanked our lucky stars they didn't step on our blueberry row. it is safe for now.

Below, is our little country in the city...











these are the seedlings i've started in my room which have sprouted in just five days, much to my relief! i thought i was drowning them or poisoning them with the old windex bottle i've been using to water them.



now, i'm going to go sow that lot FULL of wildflowers!

safety pins / lists

it is now officially impossible to clean my fingernails, or remove the soil bed between my finger prints. my knuckles are permanently dirty, i have wood stain tattooed on my ring finger and pink nail polish which has been chipping off for the past two weeks. they are in a sad state. i have a winter scarf wrapped tightly around my neck which i rescued from the give away pile in the laundry room, one season too late. i am cocooned in our desk nook watching the office, and taping safety pins to my mole skin. i feel closer to happiness than i have in many weeks. last night i was low. on the hardwood. yet, i can still feel thankful for having a person sitting in my room when i came home and slowly collapse on the floor crying out i'm not happy, and can feel comforted by her sympathy tears as she lets me spill onto the floor and swear and sob and bleed mascara all over my red face. today was somehow a healing day. nothing extraordinary. far from it. i went to work, i allowed myself to sing in my car, i worked quietly in the office all day, i took a long shower, i ate a meal of sloppy joes at the end of four tables and laughed freely, i put on a comfy tshirt, a worn-in cardigan and my oldest pair of jeans, had a smoke with my favorite and most faithful smoking partner, took in our garden for the hundredth time, sat hunched over my desk drawing friendly monsters... today was really nothing, and today was everything. somehow, as i slept last night, my eyes tired and dry, with my cheek pressed into my hand, in my exhaustion God came back to me. and today my heart began to stretch again, sometimes i am scared i am drying it out with all my anger and hurt, but i never do. i never quite can. he is showing me hope again. it feels quite far away still, but i can see it. and i can hope for hope.

as i was scrubbing my hands today, trying so hard to get them shiny and soft, i rubbed off the words i had written there on my way to pick up beth from the skytrain station, it said the whole world is a song in crooked black ink, and i smeared it right off in my efforts. i might rewrite it there for tomorrow.

one day is a miracle.

p.s. tomorrow, or someday soon, i will post pictures of our garden and my baby seedlings which i think i may have just drowned in their egg carton beds.