Closed for the Season

A couple of years ago, the city's Victorian era Public Gardens were finally opened (after years of pleading) for times throughout the winter. Prior to that, the gardens had been closed during the winter to protect the grounds from being trodden on through slushie, freezing, thawing cycles.

However, this past year, it was closed again through the winter.

I am glad.

The reason it is so good is that something that is closed has to one day be opened.

Finally, after several months wondering what was going on in there under the frozen pond bottoms and frost encrusted hedges, the gates swung open. It was open for the season.

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I entered August without you.

I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.

Keep telling yourself that.

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