mjj (flemmings) wrote,

Cet été je ferai un jardin

Some years back my s-i-l took the plastic swimming pool her grandkids played in before they became gigantic male things (one of whom trimmed my hedge for me on the holiday weekend-- gigantic maleness has its uses though I think I may actually be at least as tall as he is), filled it with earth and planted lettuce. This was cool. These last years she's been gardening at the cottage, not here, so no more lettuce. But I thought 'Hey, *I* could do it' (non-gardening non-outdoor me with the iffy neck and shoulder nerves, yes?) Nothing ventured...

She dug up the earth for me some weeks back, but May-- non-stop rain, yes? Earth was sprouting grass when I dug it up again on Sunday and mixed in a bag of whatever one puts in dirt to make it better. 'You need two more of those,' she says. Bike two blocks to local garden centre, buy a bag, put it on carrier, walk it home, dig it in. Do it again. Go see chiropracter. Dig it up some more Monday evening. Lovely black earth, ready for seeds. 'Needs some peat,' she said. 'Won't get it,' said I. Made little rows, dropped in seeds, covered. 'Water it,' she said. 'God will do it for me,' I said. 'Water it anyway.' I did. God did too, next morning, to the accompaniment of much Son et lumière.

Pool sits under my burgeoning cherry tree, so one may wonder how much water it does get actually. However, last two days have been crisis at work 9-6 affairs, and it's rained every day as well. This morning I look out my window and realize: one must go remove burgeoning cherry's droppings from pool. Don't want to. Today is Black Thursday, the day after acupuncture/ shiatsu, when my soul is always like a disturbed anthill, and don't forget those 9-6 days in 42C humidex, which haven't helped. I am contemplating this, and contemplating the practice of mindfulness, where one removes cherry pits and leaves for the sake of removing cherry pits and leaves and not in hopes of some future lettuce.

(Alas that Pauline Julien is impossible to find in practically any format. But here are the words to Deux Vieilles:

L'été, quand il fait beau soleil,
Je vois souvent passer deux vieilles
Qui marchent en se tenant le bras,
Elles s'arrêtent à tous les dix pas
Quand j'entends leur éclat de rire
J'ai un peu moins peur de vieillir

C'est la chanson que je nous chante,
Serons-nous deux vieilles amantes?
Resterons-nous tendres complices
De mes manies, de tes caprices
Dans le secret d'une maison,
Le château fort de nos saisons,
Où je fredonne un air ancien ?
Cet été je ferai un jardin

(au Refrain)

C'est la chanson que je nous chante,
Serons-nous deux vieilles amantes
Descendant lentement le temps,
Qui s'arrêtent de temps en temps?
Tu cherches l'ombre, moi le soleil
Les gens diront "Voyez les vieilles
Qui sont ensemble depuis toujours
Et qui mourront le même jour"

L'été, quand il fait beau soleil,
Je vois souvent passer deux vieilles
Qui sont ensemble depuis toujours
Qui partiront, qui partiront,
Qui partiront le même jour.

And this has Tu n'as pas de nom
Tags: music, religion, rl_11, verse

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