Category Archives: Leo’s Victory Garden in the Fenway

Leo and Iory’s Fenway Victory Garden

Revisiting Spring in the Fenway, 2012

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Yesterday Leo brought home tulips from our garden.
Today the flowers are dancing in their vase,
remembering the songs of birds
and the warmth of the morning sun.

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The yellow fringe of the witch hazel bush
smiles brightly in the chilly afternoon sun of early March.

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In a crevasse of the rock garden stuffed with last year’s curling oak leaves, blue bells ring announcing the triumph of spring!

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Mr. Robin, classic harbinger of the coming season beat the rush by never leaving the neighborhood. His yellow beak like a swelling daffodil bud will burst into song—claiming the garden as his own.

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The Black twisted branches of a maple tree
burst into life with Chartreuse blossoms
mocking the rows of soldier  bricks
held in the  tight grasp of immutable  mortar.

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What does the maple tree know of Boston restraint? She bursts into bloom but the busy city- people rushes on by. Tomorrow seed wings will fly from branches high above the street where car horns blare with impatiens at slow-pokes at a traffic light.

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Mr. Cardinal perches on our garden fence
puzzling over the noisy traffic and  wondering if humans ever sing.

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The forsythia hedge squeezes together tightly, laughing at the tickle.

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Looming above the blossoming crabapple in our garden, the tower of Babble presumes to insure against misfortune.
Soon the spring flower pedals will fall, dancing gaily, letting go with joy.
A week in the sun was time’s glory, setting seeds to grow.

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The magnolia wares chilly rain drops on her pink cheeks—jewels of spring turning pink blossoms into green leaves.  Can you hear the robin’s song? It is short and oh, so sweet!

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The red tailed hawk and the pigeon on shelters perch—each looking out for his interest. Do they know how close they are?

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Having spent the winter sleeping deeply in the silent earth, the gossiping daffodils are eager to speak.

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The forsythia bush beneath the goose berry tree can not speak to the blue sky in July so she must shout loudly when she can. Don’t you find her urgent cry beautiful?

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The families of Johnny Jump Ups are our true friends, always eager to say hello—staying till the end of the party.