a break in the storms

He posted an online ad, searching for a new mate. She lived in a firewatch place, and was drawn to his love of puns. I saw him yesterday, as I went for coffee. Up and down, he said, and mostly down. Teens, and the girlfriend. He wants her to come down from the tower, move into the town, be his domestic babe. I can understand her reluctance, I said. And the rain kept falling.
Today, a break. I went out to the asphalt parking lot , to weed the flowerbeds. When we moved the store here, to this rough location, our friends were aghast. What will you do about the junkies? What will you do about the trash. We said we'd give the junkies books. We'd pick up the trash.
And I planted trees and flowers, in three long strips. Pomegranate, liquidambar, chitalpa, willows. Tree mallow with pink flowers, roses, love in a mist, cornflowers, sweetpeas, coreopsis, geraniums, rosemary, lavender. And a frill or two of petunias.
The junkies brought packets of seeds. The drunks helped me weed. Friends brought cuttings, fertilizer. A birch tree sprang up along the building, bird planted. Three peach trees have grown from seed, and bear fruit.
I always meant to live in a garden.