i’m already off to the beach for a run when you text me: would i like to do garden in morning or afternoon?
i can’t help but get into the ocean. i come into the kitchen, hair dripping, and say let’s do it this morning, hey?
we begin. immediately i rip one of the candy cane bags full of soil. candy striped bags, i mean. the day before, when i ask the man from the landscaping supplies over the phone if we can bring up some candy cane bags to fill with soil, he tells me straight out he doesn’t know what a candy cane bags is. fair enough. when we’re in the store, buying them, you go right out and say homeless people bags. there’s no misunderstanding that. the man at the counter takes us straight to them. they cost two fifty each. up at the landscaping supplies, it turns out we can only half fill them. they’ll bust, otherwise. i offer to shovel. the man shakes his head, and says i can hold the bags open. i hold the bags open. i can carry them to the car, at least, i say. he shakes his head, but i take one anyway. i let him take the others.
we drag the four candy striped bags of soil down to the crate and collect everything we need. one pair of gardening gloves. one trowel. one tray of seedlings. one stack of palm leaves. one stack of banana leaves. one armful of sugarcane mulch. one kettle.
i’m convinced that we can line the crate with palm leaves to stop the soil falling out, so we start off doing that. then you figure out the banana stems are pretty fibrous, so you start weaving them along the sides of the crate. it’s coming together. i step back to take a look at it. i put my hands on my hips. it’s then i see what it is we’re doing.
we’re making a nest.
we pile the soil on in and start planting. the seedlings give out sighs of relief. it turns out you’re into rows and i’m into circles, so you stick to the edges. it doesn’t take either of us long to begin planting all over the place, though.
it turns out beautifully. i can’t stop glowing.
until it’s time to empty out the bin. that’s when the wheels come off.