Epistle. To Bernadette Wild Garden

All day long these big big winds slammed against whatever was in the way. That may sound stupid but there has to be resistance. And sustained like that. Looking across the lake was like staring into a continual white out from the park over to NY state. Amazing the trees don't break off. An old question: how can something you can't see become so dominant? Relentless as a thought out of control. Apple blossoms fly through the streets and cover parked cars like a snowfall. Blue recycling bins roll in numbers like tumbleweeds in a ghost town. Another old thought: there's trouble here. Even put in some temporary stakes for the tomato plants for the day so they'd wouldn't blow up over and away. Thin bamboo pieces with twist ties.  I'd put the real stakes in the ground but but I couldn't hammer them far enough without maybe like blowing out my stitches on the inside. Talk about a mess! And consequences! Thought about it. But then had a picture in my head what it would be like and so was voted down. Democracy of the body in action. Wound over mind. And maybe it was settling for less just to plant a row of beans and a row of beets? Not really. Though did almost lose the seeds to the wind when I opened the package! Each time I bend over to do something it's as though I've taken something into account and then have to sign a registry. And each time that happens there's a little dance step-like motion, a more refined position in recoil that says hello don't do this. Ah - it's like the nurse said - your body does not want to lie to you. It's the expectations that get us and in the end make us fools. But if it wasn't going to rain then fuck it. There was a time to get something in the ground and this was it. Alas - as ever - I do seem incapable to learn even the simplest points of the day. The tiny motions that go with dropping a line of seeds into the dirt can bring about a kind of anatomical dope slap that when all's said and done you have no control over. If you're going to play with fire as they say there will be disquiet and pain afterwards unless you're agile enough to get out of the way.  But does that makes us tragic? Romantic even? Or as I implied just plain stupid? Probably speaking I settle for a taste from all three. Yea I know. Be like the trees. Bend but don't break and all that. But I'm not a tree. I'm a relatively  average circumstance processing mammal with a geared up nervous system. And I'm not sure about any of it. But you can't blame me if everything happens at once.