Tomorrow’s Garden

Tomorrow’s Garden

© 2008 Nancy J. Bond

Alas, another summer’s flown
And still, no garden of my own.
No rich-brown, tilled, earth-fragrant soil,
No garden plot in which to toil.
No lettuce, chard, zucchini, peas,
No grassy stains upon my knees.
No cupboard full of pickles…jellies
Made to sate our winter bellies.
No fragrant roses near the door,
No bright lantana’s insect lure;
No tall red poppies sway in breeze,
No paper birch or maple trees;
No tidy little potting shed…
Not one imperfect flowerbed.
Perhaps next year, I say, because
I think of everything that was
Once mine, and sigh and sigh and sigh…
As days and weeks and months slip by.
I guess I’ll be content with pots
Because, for now, that’s all I’ve got.
I’ll pack away my garden here,
And dream of flowerbeds…next year.


Author: nancybond

A writer, photographer, naturalist from small town Nova Scotia, Canada.

13 thoughts on “Tomorrow’s Garden”

  1. Dreaming about next year’s garden is something I enjoy doing every winter — and it gets even more fun when all the seed catalogues start to arrive!


    Hi Krys! Yes indeed, seed catalogues certainly shorten the winter.

  2. Oh Nancy, that is beautiful. You should have that house and a garden. I don’t know why people are so stubborn they don’t realize they’re never going back. And even if they did, so what, the more the merrier. It is such a shame that house does not have occupants to love it, and gardens to frame it.

    Thanks, Brenda. It will resolve itself sooner or later, and until then, perhaps something else will come up. Glass half full, you know. ;)

  3. This is such a beautiful, poignant post Nancy.

    I hope next year brings the flowerbeds you’re dreaming of. Seeing what you do with your lovely balcony, I’m sure your future flowerbeds will be beautiful.

    Thanks so much, Linda. :)

  4. A photographer AND a poet. You are a very talented lass, Nancy. I love your poem and your flower photo. I dream about my garden for next year as well, but these days I’m wondering what to get rid of that just isn’t working anymore. Straggling plants, thinning grasses, plants that have overgrown their area…yada, yada, yada. Labor of love!

    I don’t know about talented, Debi–I do love poetry, though. And yes, any garden, large or small, is always a labor of love. And those dreams are what see us from season to season. But you know that. :)

  5. oh, that poem makes me sad for you Nancy (even though it’s beautifully written). Keep the dream alive, you never know what’s around the corner….

    Absolutely…my glass is always half full. :)

  6. Nancy, right now your blog is your garden, and you are reaping a bountiful harvest of praise and admiration from a world of other gardeners. Keep on sowing beautiful words and pictures. Peace.

    W2W — you’re right, my blog is like a garden in a lot of ways. And I’m very fortunate to live in an area that is rich with forests, fields and streams that provide a natural “garden” for those who choose to enjoy it. :) I’m very lucky.

  7. Garden dreaming is what gets me through the winters Nancy .. it took a long time .. 20 plus years before I had my own garden because we lived in military quarters .. my glass is always just about full ! LOL
    Your poem was lovely !

    Thanks, Joy — I’m patient about most things, but 10 years in this apartment is more than enough. I feel like I’ve never unpacked my suitcase, if that makes any sense… But, you just never know what tomorrow (or next summer) may bring. :)

  8. My soul sighs and sings of hopes for your garden, Nancy. I do believe dreams come true.

    One has to believe in dreams come true, Joey. I agree. What else is there? Thanks for your kind thoughts. :)

  9. Oh Nancy, your poem made my heart sad for you as I have been there. Before moving to this home I had to be content growing my plants in containers (I got to be very good at it though!). I know all too well what it feels like to long for your own patch of Earth. I hope it is closer than you think. ;)

    Ever hopeful, Cynthia. :) That poem must read like I was having a pity party, when that’s really not the case. I’m grateful to be able to garden at all — containers or otherwise. :) Everyone has been so kind with their wishes.

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