Bring Me The Voodoo

I was determined to get the water turned on in the roadside vegetable garden last week. I just had to convince myself I had the necessary energy to do it. It is a struggle. Things are getting fuzzy in my absence.

While I was getting a waterline back up and running, the six pots of voodoo lilies landed in my truck. Why shouldn't they spend the summer with me? It could be the last. I made sure they were out of winter storage and on the deck at the house next door before the sickness grabbed hold. That made getting them in the truck easier to imagine.

Voodoo Lilies are a summer, June, bulbs. On the first day of summer, they have yet to awaken, a touch late by habit. I didn't miss a thing. That is how cool it has been the last three months on the mountain top. Heat changes everything in the garden. I'm still waiting. I have tomato, peppers and voodoo to grow.

I have collected plants and shiny trinkets to display all my life. Talismans of people and places. Doors to other worlds. The Curio Cabinet of life in a biological world.

Summer is here. I have two more chemo treatments in this first round of treatment. Then it will be time to assess and decide what is next.

What is next? The forces are stirring. It is going to take some voodoo to get me out of this mess. The maintenance gardener would be happy with some light summer mowing. A touch of order is always nice. A bountiful blooming meadow grows on and draws me in no matter.

Bring me the voodoo.