my emotional garden

The garden is where i go to think things out. It is where i receive inspiration and thoughts sent my way empathic. I call it higher powerish, these feelings that arise in my garden. I talk to it, it silently talks to me. No words needed. The earth is alive and speaks through expressions of beauty and awe inspiring visual and sensory nutrition for the absolute raw core in my soul.

I grew up in a barn, well, not exactly in a barn, but my grandparents had a couple of really cool barns, and I lived in them. I kept house with the chickens and horses. Me and the farm dogs set out every morning to do the chores of watering and feed all the animals. Grandpa had thousands of animals. He was a regular St Francis. The animals just trusted him. We started the day cutting up fruit, boiling eggs, dicing carrots, celery for the parrots, monkeys, etc. We had this crazy African Grey parrot named Snoopy. He would imitate grandma calling for grandpa...Grrrraaaaannnppppaaaaaa sounded just liked her, he could also cry like the grand babies. I had almost a dozen younger cousins that were always crying about something or another. LOL Grandpa was the king of sustainability. Back then I called it trashy. He utilized everything free. The barns had chicken coops made from recycled doors in all different colors. We drove to the Braum's outlet in OKC to get day old bread once a week for free. A whole pick up load. I would sit in the back on a tower of cookies, Hawaiian bread, rolls, teetering above the bed line flying down I-35 Highway. Grandpa had me ride up there so we didn't lose any free animal food LMAO
We also crushed cans. A huge amount of cans. I was the eldest so I would have the younger ones stepping on the cans to flatten them out and toss into the truck. Grandpa ran a pawnshop in MWC across from Tinker Air Force Base. The ultimate junk hunters destination! His heart was back home on the land though in Choctaw. He didn't move fast. Just shuffled along doing his own thing. Wheeling and dealing, taking care of the animals in between. Shooting snakes at the pond was always an exciting event. Grandpa had this little 22 Luger, that my husband now owns, and I'm so happy we have that piece of history. I can remember him putting on his jacket, this same sheep skin and leather coat, then his hat, then his gun. That was my cue to slip on some shoes, QUICK!

Every nice Spring day brings back days on that farm in Choctaw. As a child day's in the garden stick around to become beloved memories and imprinted feelings that can be drawn back up at will with the life that Spring flings like color paints across a canvas.

Hello Grampa I sure miss you today I remember you loved the tulips and you let me run free and wild on the land