the reluctant gardener listened

ever since the wife implored me to be temporary caretaker of her beloved plants while she is away this leafdropper has always been a reluctant gardener.  not that i don't love plants.  it's just that i am sure i have not the green thumb.  

during high school days, there was this extra curricular subject where we were taught to hoe and tend garden plots by ourselves and to drop our chosen vegetable seeds and nurture the seedlings till harvest time.  i must confess my grades on this subject were terrible.  i have had this opinion that what's needed only is to religiously water the plants.  the sunshine and the gentle breeze and the generosity of Mother Earth will take care of the rest.  i discovered for vegetables such was a bad opinion.

yesterday, i again reluctantly came out and sprayed water on the wife's plants.  I don't even know what they are. I noticed they've grown so well these past months. they were robust and strong and green and upright.  some have already flowered.  beautiful, delicate white ones.  i am sure they're sweet-scented as well.  new leaves and stems have steadily grown but they were shooting forth in all directions.  the thing is, growth has somehow filled up the spaces between the plants and they are now appearing constricted.  something must be done to free some space.

i pulled out the pruning shears.  i don't know where to begin.  i am sure the plants are expecting me to do something.  i looked helplessly.  lost.  i fixed my gaze intently on the juxtaposition of the branches, twigs, leaves, flowers.  intermingled.  intertwined.  i knew the birds perched on my rooftop were observing me.  spectators all, warbling joyfully about this lovely day.  the afternoon sunlight gave silvery gleam on the beads of water that still clung on the leaves and twigs and stems.

i lifted the pruning shears and gently placed it over an unruly sprout.  i thought i heard it said, "go ahead, prune me!"  i did.  I kept listening for the go ahead whisper.  for the permission to cut. i kept pruning. lifting the shears over and gently placing over the spot where i felt I needed to cut.

leaves dropped, twigs fell, branches as well.  space being released.  constriction bring corrected.  i also heard something like, " can't breathe, please unloose the soil over this spot, " or, " i am vulnerable here, my roots are exposed, please cover me. "

i did what i was told as i kept listening.

finally, it's done.  everything looked pleasantly in order.  the birds were quiet now but still perched on my rooftop.  the sun has slowly turned golden and about to set.

i took the stickbroom and swept the cuttings and gathered them inside a garbage bag.  freshly cut plants have this particularly enticing scent.  

i felt relieved.  thank you, my plants, for helping me.

i am pretty sure if I'll be graded this time,  i will have passing marks. 

Happiness is time well spent.