my time in the garden this eve

This evening I sat outside on top of the picnic table with a bottle of beer held tight between my feet and looked out on the garden and wrote this. I have decided that my garden reflects everything raw and wild my life is not. This year it has grown rich on junk. Tea leaves, melon rinds, potato peelings, they have all gone into the dirt back here buried and piled intermittently among vines and leaves. Seeds from old tomatoes and cucumbers lend themselves to scattered flurishes of green.
I have decided, by default, that my method this year is to have no method.
This garden will definitely be staying in the minor leagues this fall. So far in life I have just started to care about things that my dad has turned into rituals over the years. Since I have moved back to Bemidji I have strove to make sense of the experiences I had while I was away. And while it is nice to feel a sense of order to things in my life now I also recognize I also need this wildness.
The garden has turned in blind chaos, jungles of unattached vines, rusted spoons. It seems awful that these leaves will wither in the fall and the broad leaves will expose the side of the house again. As I contemplate the impending changes life seems daring and strange like this garden. I continue to sip the dark ale (thanks Pete) and my head begins to feel big and wobbly on my neck. I start to think about what to eat for dinner as the garden flurishes green. My mom's continued watering next door has swelled the hollyhocks in bud that gently rock against the walls. Her mums spread full as bushes, trailing and complicated. Basil blossoms spice the air.
The suns last rays are warm and the breeze tonight is strong enough to keep the deerflies and mosquitos off. I sit through the sunset and into the darkening night. I let the beer wear off gently as the night grows deeper, thicker, darker all around. Time goes by and yet I don't want to move. I try to have no thoughts. I shut my eyes and feel my senses grow alert. All around me I feel how quickly things are formed and are consumed. I dig my feet into the moist earth feel anchored to the ground which feels good.