She must laugh out loud when she sees me moping around the garden, gazing sadly at the dead blueberries, the wounded oak tree, and the leafless arbor tilted drunkenly northward. She must hear me when I tell St. Fiacre that I am finally going to throw in the trowel. Sure Tropical Event Debbie did Duval !Sure bad things happened in the garden! But sure too is the return of growth and green. Five weeks after Debbie's dance,the arbor has been straightened through the magic of rebar and is now encircled with the kiwi which may one day bear fuzzy fruit. The oak appears to be sending out tiny leaves on the tip of its gnarled branches. Two dead blueberry bushes and one dead camellia have started a new Hugel. Why can't I ever remember to trust the process ? Why do I still need the bumper sticker that says
, " God grant me the serenity to accept the fact I can't see around corners."
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