When I was a child of three or four, my grandparents’ garden seemed enormous. I would take off from the back step, stretch out my arms and fly around the garden, past the living room windows to the blushing peonies, where I would stop to collect a handful of fallen petals to toss into the air like confetti as I raced off again. Up the left side of the garden, past the snowy clumps of alyssum, pinks and cheerful pansies to the rose bushes, as big as trees to me, with blooms, it seemed, as big as my head, rich reds, dark pinks and pale yellows, some multicoloured. I would continue past the honesty and night scented stock, the crocosmia, like tiny red dragons, and the greenest smelling mint. I always stopped to peer through the crack in the shed, at an old hurdy gurdy and my grandmother’s wringer, and finish at the bunker, full of dusty coal.
When my grandfather died of neglect in a hospital for sufferers of dementia, after his funeral I sat at the window, an adult looking out at the postage stamp of a garden, neglected and overgrown. The roses drooped and the honesty rustled in the winter wind, and I remembered the day I ran so fast around the garden that I fell into the rose bushes – and discovered thorns.
viewing the past through rosy tints
sharp thorns of winter
Kim M. Russell, 2017
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Haibun Monday – How Wonderfully Imperfect
Victoria is at the bar this Monday, being wonderfully imperfect with her haibun prompt. She explains that Wabi-Sabi is the art of imperfection. It is the recognition that everything real is transient and imperfect. It recognizes the circle of life—that things die, break, disintegrate—and finds therein beauty.
She says that she first heard of Wabi-Sabi when she took a community class on floral design; in its application to flower arrangement, she learned of the loveliness of asymmetry and simplicity.
For today’s prompt we are considering the compelling world-view of Wabi-Sabi: we may use an imperfect object as inspiration or choose to include a grammatical or spelling error in the prose portion of our work. We should, however, adhere to the proper form for haibun: 1-3 tight paragraphs of non-fictional prose and a traditional haiku that includes a reference to a season.