Candid Perspectives

The Garden, in my family, is something that has taken on a life of its own. For as long as I can remember, early spring meant spending entire days out in the yard, digging, raking, plowing, planting the wonderful little seeds and baby plants that would nourish our tummies and souls all summer long.

We took baskets to our neighbors and smiled when others helped themselves.

Well, I have discovered that I can still participate in the whole gardening experience. It's a great thing, because I love being able to work on something so real and have the privilege of seeing a tangible reward.

So what if I spend the majority of my limited time outside mostly prostrate on the ground, sometimes trying to make sense of what I see and manipulating my lower limbs so that I can have functioning access to my hands? It's a great experience.

One of these days I will have an elevated garden on paths that are wheelchair accessible. I am sure that I will enjoy planning the space, supervising and scattering seeds. I know I will enjoy the unmistakable smell of the wet dirt, fresh tomatoes and other plants that have been such an important part of my personal traditions.

I have had to adapt quite a bit and some things I can only just remember doing, but the tradition -- the anchor-- and the benefit continues.

I don't ever want to give up a pleasure, skill or duty when all I really need to do is adapt. I want to make the change before change 'makes' me.

So there it is, tapped out with dirty fingernails. There is the whole of the matter.