THE IMAGINED JAY
I watched the catmint diminish last Fall, watched it turn brownish. I didn't water it in the 100 degree heat. It grayed and became brittle. If I brushed against it the stems broke and the leaves fell unrecognizable to the ground.
Today from the center it aims, bright green, through the snow, at the blue sky. Around this soft and new growth an aura of a dried season, where the plant went waiting for another year.
I try to take cues from nature as to how I can or should live within my world, which is often quite different, with its own dangers and supports. I would like to understand what the catmint knows, that it can give in to gray and fade into winter.