The garden was a wasteland of rotten tomatoes, gnarled sticks, and weeds. I thought nothing survived August’s heat or September’s drought. But in October, out of the yellowing foliage of a red bud, came a pole bean tendril. It uncoiled like a snake, speckled with white blossoms and adorned with heart-shaped leaves. My one year old son and I ate the tender pods; it gave us hope.
- Roslyn Imrie
- I am a mother, a teacher, and a nature lover. I grew up on a mountain we called Owls' Knob in the Ozarks of Arkansas. The first seven years of my life were spent living in a log cabin, far from a store or streetlight, without electricity or running water and after twenty years of travel, I returned to the abondoned homestead. Now I live on a hill by a small lake and work at a public garden. These are stories about nature written from a women deeply influenced by place.