Walking on Water by Liz Strauss SAMPLE PAGES

I got to know it one cubic yard at a time. It talked to me
through my hands. I talked to it with my head and my
heart. The garden showed all sorts of secrets to me. I
told secrets to it.
By the fifth year, it seemed all of the original plants had
been restored, and the new ones had become established. Less and
less I cut flowers to bring in the house. When I did bring them in, I’d
spend hours arranging and re-arranging them. More and more I
preferred to watch them from my window. I would walk through the
garden and think words to them under the sky.
Our work on each other was done.
Shortly after we moved back to Chicago — home.


I’m in the city now. My garden is a good friend I think about. In this
home, I have silken flowers everywhere I look. I often stop writing, to
move a tulip or a daisy to make an arrangement look whimsical.
There’s a single white rose in a frosted blue vase directly in front of
me. I look at it when I want to rest my eyes.
Today has been a day of doing things for other
people. Tomorrow I’ll buy fresh flowers and spend
the whole day arranging and re-arranging them.
18
©2008 Liz Strauss All rights reserved


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