The Garden - a Continuation

So when I arrived back in Washington today, I stashed my bags in my room, put dinner on the stove, and challenged the garden. Three hours, stained fingers, and a rash later, half the garden looks like a garden. I found the tomato plants, and the pepper plants too! And while I was finding them, I found other things in overgrown corners of my mind.

Like, I'm getting to be just like my mom, who I always thought was nuts for loving gardens.

And - how often am I like Grandpa Landlord? Planting things because it is fun to plant, and not following up on the product?

What if I was a moth? 

Relative to whatever standard made me a moth, would the people I know also be moths, or would they be other kinds of bugs, or would they not be bugs but other kinds of things? 

By what standards might in-thorax-ation as a moth befit me?

What is imagination in neurochemical terms?

Can neurochemical terms describe imagination? 

Is lust just imagination overfed or not curbed? 

If imagination is something you develop, is it something you plant? 

Do we have a responsibility for imaginations we plant? 

And others. That I forget. Or that are secret. :) Sometimes, by choice or by inevitability, things we forget and things secret are the same. 

The garden is 50 feet from me for the rest of the summer. Mmmhmmm. It's going to be a good summer.

Image by Yellena James, linked from http://www.etsy.com/listing/70853949/sole-11x11-print