high on dreams and pumpkin seeds.

I think I ate a million pumpkin seeds tonight.
I think that, along with everything else inside of me, there now abides at least the beginning of a pumpkin patch.
I think that Charlie Brown will look for the great pumpkin come October, and will not have to look any further than Landenberg, PA.
That is, if I am still here in Landenberg, PA, once October comes around again.

I wonder what else will be blooming, come October.
Is it a terrible thing to dream about this garden?
Is it a terrible thing to dream?
No, I don’t think so. A life without dreams looks pretty bleak.

Perhaps by October, I will not just have the great pumpkin in my garden; perhaps I will also have two feet that stand up very well on their own.
Perhaps I will finally let go of that rope I’ve been holding onto, the one that is called I AM AFRAID THAT I CANNOT DO THIS–I will let go and find that I am not dangling in midair, after all. No, I am only just a few feet from the ground. All I need to do is stretch my legs a little and I will feel soft and sturdy–blessedly sturdy!–ground underneath of me. And the ground will smile a smirky kind of smile that only grounds can do, because it knows that it has actually been there all along, but it will not say a word because everyone knows the ground is very polite and doesn’t often say I told you so. Not unless it really needs to put someone in their place, but I will already be in my place: standing on the ground, on my own two feet, see?

And what does my garden look like currently? Other than the beginnings of the greatest pumpkin patch the world has ever seen, I mean? Well, when I was smaller than I am now, I had a garden. It was an S shape, my garden; perhaps this was because one of my nicknames is Ess, or perhaps it is because trendy things like pools and stuff are often shaped like kidney beans, I am not sure.

But in this garden, there were delphiniums. And one was especially tall and looked especially perfect and brilliantly blue and I was so proud of it. Until it broke one day. The blooms were still lovely, but they were no longer standing upright. They just weren’t strong enough anymore. So it drooped, but still bloomed while it drooped, which I thought was valiant, thereby earning an A for effort, if not for perfection. And then there were Sweet Williams. They were low to the ground, soft to the touch, and bright purples and pinks and all the varying shades in between, like the girls’ section of a toy store. They stayed close to the ground and never did break. And there were lamb’s ears, too. The plant, I mean. So soft and fuzzy and I would go out to my garden and just feel them. They weren’t the prettiest looking, but they sure were the softest to touch. And now I am not sure what my point is, other than my garden is probably definitely a mix of broken and blooming and soft and holds within it all the colors of the girls’ section of a toy store and also the colors of the ocean and I hope the colors of the woods, too, since I love them so much, as well as being big enough to fit the great pumpkin within.

At least it better be after tonight and all those pumpkin seeds I ate, anyway.