anghara (anghara) wrote,


And so passes another spring, into memory.

The bulbs that were its glory have faded, and then yellowed and died; flower beds that were a riot of colour are now bare earth again, with last season's dead leaves and dry stalks cut back and cleaned out.

So I went out there today with a couple of packets of wildflower seeds. A mixture of all sorts of odds and ends - blue ones, red ones, bright orange poppies, I don't even know - the list on the back of the packet runs to a dozen or more names. I took handfuls of seeds and threw them randomly in the waiting earth of the empty flower bed - and now we wait, for the sun and the rain to coax something out.

There's the promise of my summer, after the blaze of my spring.

I was looking at the seeds as they nestled in the palm of my hand - tiny twisted little strings, and something feathered with a pair of minute little "wings" at the back of the seed, and a handful of larger ones, round and hard and wrinkled (an ageing little cannonball). They all came to me... from somewhere else. Probably they were all cultivated and harvested and domesticated to an inch of their lives - but the packets said "wildflower seeds". I wonder how much memory there is in those tiny, tiny seeds. If they will come up in my flowerbed and remember a wild meadow somewhere where a distant ancestor once nodded in the breeze. I like to think that they will. I might even tell them of it, while I water them and coax them into life over the next few weeks. "You were beatutiful once, your ancestors were, and once upon a time in a meadow..."

Well. Anyway. A chapter is THIS close to being finished to my (current) satisfaction - I will update with new wordcounts and all that later, if I manage to complete the things that need to be done to guide that particular chapter into harbour. WIth a bit of luck, seeing as I know PRECISELY what is supposed to happen in the next chapter, I might have that next chapter sewn up by the middle of next week. And then There's July... and I'd like to be able to have a finished first draft by the end of July. Gods willing.

Back to work.

The seeds are growing. FLower and story.

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