Stairway to Heaven

In winter, sometime after Groundhog Day and about when the weeds have reached kneehigh, I take up the planks that provide a walkway through summer rows of spinach and romaine, fennel, peas, and pak choi -- or whatever caught my eye thumbing through Shepherd's seed catalog the previous January. It's the first of the spring gardening rituals, a preamble to the heavy spade and shovelwork to come. And each year the planks are more weathered and wormeaten, wood returning to earth. But for a brief few days each year the twin boards ramp skyward as if to mark a trail to some garden of the etherworld where only ghosts or angels tread, weightless, upon their backs.

So much depends upon....



If you lived here you'd be home now



Copyright 1995