The Garden
I'm far from the first to use the process of weeding a garden as a metaphor. In fact, it's been used so many times that I had a hard time pinning down its origin. This seems a good time to reflect on gardening, and weeding. In mid-April the apple tree blooms in muted pinks and white. Bees buzz around from blossom to blossom. The warm California sun will spend the whole summer saturating the leaves with enough energy to transform the remnants of those blossoms into fruit so that by early autumn—if I can keep the squirrels away—we'll harvest just enough to make an apple crisp. What I have might not be enough to some to call a garden, but the collection of potted plants on the deck of my condo gives me the best of both worlds. I can enjoy nature and the process of helping things to grow in a way that's not nearly as labor intensive as maintaining an entire yard. It's no small part of the reason why I live in a condo. The apple tree is a mainstay; we've had it si