The first pea never makes it out of the garden

As my garden grows
so grows my soul.

This season has been a roller coaster
so far…
and so goes my soul.

The peas are always planted on St Pat’s day
for all the right reasons.
But this spring mother nature decided to play tricks on them
and so on my soul.

They waited
I waited
we waited
for a breath of warmth.

The spinach leafed out
the radishes bulbed
the garlic climbed
but the peas barely inched.

I almost gave up
my soul almost gave up.

I should not have worried
they arrived in their own time
like a traveling brush salesman
who sometimes stops for tea…
and sometimes not.

One fine morning
the Muses stopped me in my garden tracks
and pointed to a particularly lovely tendril.
Ok I said, that’ll do.

I plucked it right off
and set it in a glass of water
while I selected the proper teacup
and went about composing the light.

In order to get the illusion of the mystical source of that light
I cantilevered a very thick piece of glass
out over the edge of an oak cabinet
and positioned a studio lamp underneath.

Then I MacGyvered the heck out of some twine and clamps
to hold the little pea vine just so within the cup
and stepped back to focus the camera lens
to take some shots for reference.

And…BOOM
and I mean
BOOM !!!

That big old hunk of glass shattered
and my soul aged about 3 years.

You know how
when that sort of unexpected explosive accident happens
and everything slows down for just a couple seconds
while you absorb the danger
assess the probable consequences
and count your fingers
and karma points ?

Well it was all good
and so too what remains of my soul.

The glass very kindly sorted itself out
into three very scary but intact shards.
The lamp bulb was history but unbroken
and the teacup,
that wafer thin porcelain lovely,
had ever so daintily just rolled herself
across the rug
to the foot of my shivering tennis shoes.

And left there untouched
hanging by one thin strand
was the sturdy and stalwart
pea shoot.

And my ever so grateful soul.