Love Garden

Sweet fragrances; scented petunias, lavender, and rosemary melt into the late afternoon heat as I trudge up and down the stairs with my watering can.  My garden grows is in a tiny walled courtyard.  Three tiers of brick and wrought iron stacked one on top of the other like a layer cake.  I share the old building with four other tenants.  She is a grand dame, past her prime, full of aging charm.  No spigot. 

The house resides on an old St. Louis street and stares down the alley to the apartment where Tennessee Williams lived as a boy; where he set “The Glass Menagerie.”  Like the short story, this neighborhood is full of promise, faded and broken.  Time is seldom kind. 

Before he left for the summer my love tilled the tiny garden plot against the south wall and planted red and white flowers, tomatoes and peppers.  Two large clay pots on brick posts are filled with red and yellow flowers and morning glory spilling over the sides.  The stairs are lined with herbs; basil, rosemary, parsley, cilantro and lavender.  Hanging baskets are strung on the walls and hang from the balcony. 

I trudge up and down the stairs with my watering can each evening.  It is a labor of love.    By the time the sun sets I sit damp and sweaty on my tiny balcony and breathe thank-you into the night air. We are apart but he has filled my garden with love and flowers.