Evelyn R. Swett Photography
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Healing in the Garden

8/27/2020

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Picture
Monarchs on Joe Pye Weed, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It's true!
If you plant it,
they will
come.

Picture
Raised beds, 2010. Photo by ERSwett
At first,
back in 2010,
I loved straight lines &
beds high enough to deter
our ​new puppy. All I wanted was to
grow lots of food as efficiently
​as possible.

Picture
2013 view looking south with rain barrel experiments in view. Photo by ERSwett
By 2013,
the compost had
moved out; 
Three layers
were too hot & dry; And a new
north-south alignment 
just felt better.
Picture
2015 view into the garden with grapes finally taking off. Photo by ERSwett
Over
time, the ideas in Toby
Hemenway's book
 Gaia's Garden, 
transformed my thinking, inviting experimentation
with fewer paths, more curves & the
integration of pollinator-
friendly plants.
Picture
2016 experiments with mounding and soft edges. Photo by ERSwett
My family
thinks it's crazy to
redesign the garden every
few years as each one seems pretty
cool, like this rounded mounded central axis
filled with a mix of annual vegetables and perennials.
But for me, these changes reveal how this garden was becoming
more than just a space to grow vegetables. It was
a safe place for me to connect with and
explore the power of the
earth herself, this
thing called
Gaia.
Picture
2018 abundance. It turns out, though, that I prefer bush beans. Photo by ERSwett
By 2018,
cucumbers emerged
from beneath pole beans, borage
invited pollinators, and there was hardly a
need to water, as the composted and well-shaded
soil sustained itself throughout the summer. I had finally
created my own 'Gaia's Garden' paradise.
So it seems strange that I would
take it apart & essentially
start over.
Picture
Garden redesign in progress, September 2018 Photo by ERSwett
But
that's just
what I did, creating
a circular space aligned with
the quadrants of a compass and based 

on historic herb garden designs.
I didn't know what this
new space would
be like...
Picture
Completed garden redesign, end of September 2018 Photo by ERSwett
...until
I planted the
echinacea and finally
understood that gardening is not
about how many peas I harvest. For me, it's
about how I can heal myself so that
together my garden and I
can help heal the
earth.
Picture
Abundance 2020 Photo by ERSwett

Summer Reading

In addition to re-reading Gaia's Garden, these others books have also captivated and inspired me this summer. It feels as if the earth is in all of our hands right now. Digging deeper is the only way to go.
​

Drew, Sarah Gaia Codex
Hemenway, Toby Gaia's Garden
Jewell, Jennifer The Earth in Her Hands
Kincaid, Jamaica My Garden (Book): 
Penniman, Leah Farming While Black
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Energy & Edging

8/16/2020

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Picture
Our 'new' front yard garden, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Welcome.
When I walk into
our 'new' front yard, it's
like magic. The granite pavers
guide me past the front
door and around
​to the back,
Picture
Our 'new' side garden, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
where ​pungent
SummerSweet and cheerful
purple Coneflower (echinacea) beckon.
"Come," they say. "You are
​safe here."
Picture
Echinacea (Coneflower) Photo by ERSwett
And I am.
Bees frolick and
I feel a warm embrace
not just from the plants, but
from all the people who guided
me to this time and this place. It seems
hard to believe that in the midst
of a global crisis, I have
​found such joy in
​the garden.
Picture
Calvin lounging in the sun, early May 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Just
three months
ago, Calvin and I sat
in our front 'yard.' Still early
in the COVID crisis, we were eager
to be outside. For me, though, this space
between our house & the road
was not a calming
​place.
Picture
The front yard, early June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
In fact,
it was unsettling.
Perhaps it was the abrupt
contrast 
between the lawn & the
trees or maybe it was 
the way the lawn
just headed off 
into our neighbor's
property, 
carrying my
energy 
with it --
away.
Picture
A work in progress, June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
But with my
son ready to help,
we gave new form to this
part of our yard. By mid June
there was a layer of
healthy soil &
​mulch.
Picture
Gro-Low Sumac, Detail August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
By mid July,
I had planted the
hillside with a cool mix of
native plants, including Gro-low
Sumac and Joe Pye Weed. In the process,
I co-opted some more of the lawn,
which really is just a nasty
water hog that 
has 
​no nutritional
value.
Picture
Joe Pye Weed (Eutrochium purpureum) August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The more
I walked among this
increasing variety of plants,
the more grounded I felt in every ​way,
not just because a formally neglected place was
getting attention, but because it was
coming to life - the winged
creatures were
showing
​up.

Picture
Scented Geranium, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
But
even with
this beauty, there
was something missing.
The more time I spent in this
place, the more I realized that it had
​something to do with the
flow of energy.
Picture
The original brick edging, July 2020 Photo by ERSwett
From prior
experiments, I realized
that it was all about 
​edging and
the clear definition of boundaries. T
he
bricks that had been in the front of the original
bed for decades were not strong enough
to contain the power of what
​
this part of our land
was ​becoming. 
Picture
Granite pavers - getting started, late July 2020 Photo by ERSwett
So,
it was with
great enthusiasm that
during the last week in July, I
carried one hundred pavers from a pallet
at Gardener's Supply in Lebanon, NH
into and out of the car, slowly
laying them into the soil,
and in the process,
transforming
this place.
Picture
The edging in place, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Our
initial design
did not include edging
material nor did it include this
connection between the front and back
yards. But this mix of stone and
diverse plantings created
an increasingly
​dynamic
space.
Picture
The view on a cloudy day, edging and all, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Power
emerges when
when there are natural
connections among people, plants
& place. Earlier today, 
I could almost hear
the 
conversation between the two varieties of
SummerSweet, one in the front and
​the other 
along the north
​side of the house. 
Picture
Summersweet, Ruby Spice, Photo by ERSwett
Picture
Summersweet, Hummingbird Photo by ERSwett
It was
as if Karen
who introduced me
to "Ruby Spice" in 2016
was actually talking with Kelsey,
who, working off what we already had,
integrated "Hummingbird" into the
front design in 2018. Together,
in 2020 they provide a
mid-summer
​banquet.
Picture
First Monarch of the year in the Hummingbird Summersweet, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
I love
​how these various

groundcovers, shrubs and trees
embody the positive spirits of the many
plants people throughout the Upper Valley who
nurtured them so that someone like
me could come along and
use them to create
a garden.
Picture
Various rocks, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And
now that
garden comforts​
and inspires because of
how a few 
small stones in various
shapes and sizes can contain a mix of plants
while also enabling 
life-giving
energy to flow.
Picture
Our front garden, August 2020 Photo by ERSwett

Local Resources

At one time or another, Kelsey & Karen worked at Henderson's Garden Center in White River Junction, VT. The Garden Center is run by Sylvia Provost, who always has amazing ideas and plants for any project.

Permaculture Solutions, LLC Karen Ganey shares her creative gifts through consultations, design and installation. 

Gardener's Supply, Lebanon, NH A friendly place to find native trees, shrubs, perennials and vegetable starts.

E.C.Brown's Nursery, Thetford, VT A welcoming place to find native trees, shrubs and perennials. 

Ongoing inspiration from friends at the
Hanover Garden Club and colleagues on the Sustaining Landscapes Committee in Hanover. 
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Change

7/16/2020

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Picture
Strange
how quickly
things can change.
One day there's this sign
silhouetted against dark clouds
and a few days later,
the sign is
​gone.
Picture
Dartmouth
College recently
announced that it was
permanently closing its golf
course. It's a common destination
for walking and since COVID
it's been a go-to spot
for many.
Picture
The
rapid action
took me by surprise,
though. The benches & the
platforms on which they rested
were gone just a few days after the
announcement. It seemed
so sudden & sad.
Picture
I'm not
a golfer and I
hate the toxins that are
used to kill weeds, but endings
are hard, especially for those whose
livelihoods depend on
​the course.
Picture
But during
the past few days,
Calvin and I 
have visited the
course frequently, noticing changes 
more subtle than a missing
bench or sign.
Picture
Grass
grows on the
paths & in the sand
traps, slowly reclaiming
the land.
Picture
Like
soldiers,
the Milkweed
march into the lawn
and stake their claim. Soon
wildflowers will do
the same.
Picture
Like
so many
transitions, the
losses for some are
benefits for others. Trade-
offs abound right
now and I am
​curious.
Picture
First,
I am curious
about how quickly
the college was able to
dismantle the structures on the
course. Is that kind of rapid adaptation
something we are all capable of
​if given clear direction
and leadership?
Picture
Second,
I am curious
about the process
of land reclaiming itself.
How long will it take and what
will it feel like? It is strange to know
that this grass will never be so
short again & that the
green layers will
disappear.
Picture
What
will it be like
when the only mowed
path follows this dotted white
line & is surrounded by tall
grass, wildflowers
​and crickets?
Picture
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Fixing Things

6/25/2020

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Picture
Sweet Woodruff and Little Oak Trees Photo by ERSwett
Bliss.
Mixed textures.
Heavenly shades of green.
What's not to
​love?
Picture
A crowded garden bed Photo by ERSwett
But those
large green leaves
are mini-oaks, taking over
a place not prepared
for ​trees.
Picture
Taking Action Photo by ERSwett
Is it
magic - - 
these pesky acorns
becoming vibrant sources of
shade & food? Maybe,
but they've
got to
​go...
Picture
Room to Flourish Photo by ERSwett
...to make
room for this Sweet
Woodruff, a dainty & mighty
medicinal herb & groundcover. I love
this kind of work. The problem
is clear & the solution
simple.
Picture
A problem with water Photo by ERSwett
The
problem
of rain barrel
drainage in the veggie
garden was equally clear, but
the solution more complex than pulling
a few 'weeds.' But again, it's
such satisfying work.
The solution
​elegant.

Picture
Rain managed Photo by ERSwett
As happens,
though, solving one
thing leads to another. Like
this wonderful scented shrub whose
name escapes me. It was great when first
planted, but it's now outgrown
that spot, creating a 
barrier & not an
invitation.

Picture
A flourishing shrub, just in the wrong spot Photo by ERSwett
With
the right 
tools & care,
it's not so hard
to make a
​change.
Picture
A flourishing shrub in a new home & an invitation to enter Photo by ERSwett
There
is power in
transplanting and
re-imagining a plant or
a space or even an assumption
about how things are meant to be. I 
feel that way all the time in the
garden. There's the vision
& then there's
​reality.
Picture
Honeysuckle vine, tended over time, fills the corner Photo by ERSwett
And
sometimes
that reality is like this
honeysuckle, planted to fill
& beautify the corner of the garden
that happens to be adjacent to the compost
and happens to, over time, look
amazing on both sides
of the fence.
Picture
The abundant honeysuckle adds beauty to the composter Photo by ERSwett
As I free
the blueberries

& liberate bounded roots,
I am grateful for unexpected flourishings.
Amid the seeming chaos & disruption of transplants
& fixings, there are places where things
work and where beauty
​exists.
Picture
Herb Garden, Early June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Honoring
these places feeds
me & gives me
 strength for
the next challenge inviting a solution.
And sometimes the solution involves nothing
more than patience, as the herb garden
reveals between the beginning
and the end of June.
Picture
Herb Garden, Late June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
2 Comments

Rootbound

6/12/2020

4 Comments

 
Picture
Rootbound Photo by ERSwett
This
is perhaps
the 100th shrub
I have planted in our yard
during the past decade, and this
tight tangle of roots gets me every time.
Not all plants are so completely
ensnared, but most ​seem
to be at least this
rootbound.
Picture
Sometimes
aggressive action is
necessary because it is
absolutely essential to free the
roots from themselves. If they remain
entangled, the shrub will never
be able to settle into
its new home.
Picture
Earlier
today, when
I held this particular
plant and gently worked to
free ​the roots, I thought of how
hard it has been to liberate myself from
the constraints I created as a result
of ​expectations of all kinds,
some from within &
some from
​family.
Picture
Once
I hit 50, though,
my confidence with clippers
increased significantly in the garden and
in my life. Experience showed me that it really
is OK to cut free some (but not all) roots
in order ​for a plant, or for me,
to grow.
Picture
A plant
will thrive in 
its new home when
its roots are free & it has the
water & nutrients it needs. As I write,
I am increasingly curious about what roots I
may choose to cut so that I can participate fully in
conversations about climate, race & our
nation's structural inequalities
that limit our collective
capacity to
thrive.
Picture
Who knows
what ​beauty will emerge
from this call to dig even deeper?
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Freeing the Blueberries

6/11/2020

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Picture
Blueberry shrubs in Lyn's garden. Photo by ERSwett
It's easy
to ignore the 
blueberry bushes.
I can't see them from the
house or from the gardens close
to the house. A few years ago they were
productive, but they've never
been ​abundant, so I
end up kind of
​ignoring
them.
Picture
Trying to free the blueberry shrubs from the grass in Lyn's garden. Photo by ERSwett
Until
yesterday,
when they called
for attention. As I am
apt to do, I dove in, slashing
the grasses 
with my Japanese Hori
Hori 
gardening knife, madly
giving those 
poor
plants some
​air. 
Picture
Diving deep Photo by ERSwett
On the
first bush, I just
cut back the grass; On the
next one, though, I focused on one
section, pulling up grass by the roots. It was
harder work, especially since we're having a drought
and the soil is compacted and dry. But as I 
said, I was in one of those "I have
take care of this NOW"
kind of moods.
Picture
Perspectives on a blueberry shrub. Photo by ERSwett
When
I stopped for
some water, though,
my 'yay me look what I've
been doing' moment became 'oh
no, there's so much more.' How often do
I focus on one part of a thing and
feel great about it, until I
​notice how much
more there is
to do?
Picture
Making slow progress with the blueberries. Photo by ERSwett
That's
how I feel
right now with all
that is happening in our
country and around the world.
It is easy to ignore things I can not see,
whether because they are actually
out of sight or because I
have such a narrow
point of
view.
Picture
More work. Photo by ERSwett
There ​is
no quick fix
for these struggling
shrubs. They need so much
more than air and space. But after
the superficial grass removal & my one
'deep dive' with that one bush,
my hands ached and I
needed to
​rest.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 1 Photo by ERSwett
But
when the
rain stopped this
afternoon I went to visit
those same bushes, this time
with my camera. In that cool late
afternoon light that cast such appealing
shadows, I stopped disparaging these forgotten
shrubs and instead paid attention to their actual shape,
colors and texture. 
Buried in 
those demanding &
overpowering grasses, though, these
blueberry bushes revealed

poise & resilience.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 2 Photo by ERSwett
 But I felt
sad & really bad
that I had not actually
provided them the nutrients
& care they needed to thrive and I am
sure they were annoyed when I whispered
"please be patient. The entire garden is calling. I'll
be back." How could they not be annoyed? They know
that in recent years 
I have only paid attention to them when
blueberries are in season (when there's something in
it for me); They also know that I have 
been
disappointed ​with their production
even though I have 
obviously
been ignoring their
​needs.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 3 Photo by ERSwett
 As I
created
these images
& whispered those
promises, I could feel their
skepticism & anger. "Yes," they're
probably thinking, "you do have a lot to
manage. But you planted us in the first place.
It really is your job to figure out how to not just
admire us, but to also do what it takes
so that we & all these other plants
can thrive in this garden
of your design &
​making.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 4 Photo by ERSwett
2 Comments

Meaning in the Garden

6/7/2020

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Picture
Ready to Work, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
There's
work to do 
at home and all
around, so we've been
working - digging & mulching,
pruning & planting. It
​feels good to
​work hard.
Picture
Yard sale Bird Surrounded Photo by ERSwett
And
even though
these phlox are out
of control and need attention,
I'm OK with their extravagant abundance
because five years ago, there was
nothing in that particular place
but a neglected corner
of the terrace.
Picture
Purples on the hillside, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Those
lupin blew over
from a neighbor's field,
but the comfrey by its side and
those chives behind were intentionally
planted to increase soil fertility on what was once
a rocky dry hillside. These woodland phlox, so different
from those flowers surrounding the bird,
thrive in a space that was once
a pile of sticks.
Picture
Woodland phlox in the shade of river birches. Photo by ERSwett
These
phlox and
this myrtle (or
Vinca Minor) have
finally merged on the
hillside by our driveway.
5 years in the making,
this space is, at
last, feeling
whole.
Picture
Merging groundcovers in the front. Photo by ERSwett
I am
grateful
to my garden
for reminding me
that neglected places
can be transformed. There
just needs to be a plan, focused
attention, and patience to
let what will emerge,
​emerge.
Picture
Bearded Iris planted in 2018 - - finally coming into their own. Photo by ERSwett
Purples
are beginning
to share the stage with
other colors, like these white
flowers on a lone Hawthorn tree that
is abuzz. It was for these pollinators that we
created this garden in the first place, so hearing them
in action gives me hope and purpose as I
go outside to get back
​to work.
Picture
Pollinators in action on the Hawthorn tree. Photo by ERSwett
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Tempest in the Compost Pile

5/31/2020

1 Comment

 
Picture
The Tempest in the Compost Photo by ERSwett
​There's
The Tempest, a
drama by Shakespeare,
and there's the perennial plant, Good
King Henry. Both white men. Both British. One
an old text with faux leather cover & the other gone to
seed. Together, they make a perfect mix
of nitrogen and carbon in 
​
my compost
pile, 
Picture
The News Photo by ERSwett
Because
it had rained a lot,
I added some old newspapers
to the mix and was surprised that they
were from 2018 - must have been
from the back of the
​storage ​​bin.
Picture
Narratives Mixed and Mingled, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
When
I stirred all this
green and brown stuff
together, they mixed & mingled,
creating a fertile space for decomposition.
It takes time, but not much, if I aerate the compost
by turning it over & making sure it gets good
& messy along the way. It smells like
an old barn, which I love, and
all that work makes
​me strong.
Picture
In Process, June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
We are
in the midst of
a global pandemic. There
are riots & demonstrations throughout
the country. I'm angry, sad and very tired of feeling
complicit in a system I did not design or
choose. Turning compost is my
way of processing the
​all of it.
Picture
Lafayette Square, June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The
natural
cycle of life,
death & renewal
I witness in this pile is
also context for the other
continuum it includes - - The
shredded news, sometimes current
and sometimes from years past, that reveals
the causes and effects of policies
and actions over time. 
Picture
2017 Tax Policy Celebration, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Mix &
mingle a diverse
bunch of decomposing matter,
turn it over once in a while and you get
soil to renew the earth from which it came; Create
policies that increase inequality and you get anger, frustration
and the perpetuation of an unfair system. It's all right
here in the compost behind my garage,
messy, smelly and beautiful
in a weird kind of
way.
Picture
2 Degrees, 2018 Photograph by ERSwett
In 2018,
when I composted
my Harvard and University
of Virginia diplomas, I experienced
the power of decomposition as not just a source of
life for the earth but also as a source of inspiration & renewal.
What seemed a dangerous & radical act at the time
did not cause the earth to shatter, but
instead freed me to reframe
​my narrative.
Picture
Compost in process, no name yet. Photo by ERSwett
For two
years now, I've
been exploring what
it means to be the product of
privilege and to own my complicity
not just with the climate crisis, which was
the original impetus for my reflections on "Two
Degrees," but also with the social and
economic disparities that exist
as a result of our current
market economy.
Picture
More compost in process, no name yet. Photo by ERSwett
Facing
truths is hard,
but when I go astray,
feeling tired & lost as I do now,
compost keeps me grounded. It is in that
pile behind the garage that clarity emerges: The power
of diversity & balance, the importance of
showing up & being patient,
and the beauty that
emerges from
the mess.
Picture
A Volume of Shakespeare, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It has
taken 
me a
week to 
craft this
​post. My whole being
seeks balance free from anxiety,
but it is an anxious and uncertain time.
What to do? Instead of leaving Shakespeare's 
volume unopened, I tore it apart, allowing
the narrative to break free and 
become something
new.

Picture
Two Degrees - The First Tear, 2018 Photo by ERSwett
​Instead of
leaving my diplomas
in a frame in the attic, I tore them
up & let them break free as well. There is power
in recomposing, decomposing and 
reframing our narratives.
Sometimes, there truly is a tempest in the compost.
It's smelly & messy & hard to take, but it's
beautiful, too, and I'm ready for
whatever work is needed.
It builds strength of
​many kinds.
Picture
Ready to Work, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
1 Comment

Thank You, Spring

5/16/2020

0 Comments

 
Picture
Solomon's Seal, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
A simple
please & thank
you. A call for spring
and gratitude when it finally
arrives. That's how my
week has been.
A simple
call...

Picture
The shade garden on a cloudy day. Solomon's Seal, Bleeding Heart, Forget-Me-Not & Sweet Woodruff Photo by ERSwett
Please.
And a response.
Thank ​you. There's not
a lot more a gal
can say.
Picture
Leaves or Fronds? What does one call these elegant green shapes? Photo by ERSwett
Still feeling
overwhelmed by
the reality of our 'new 
normal,' but finding solace
outside, with camera,
texture & color.

Picture
Bloodroot, Sweet Woodruff, Forget-Me-Nots and Hostas emerging Photo by ERSwett
And as
happens, when
I frame leaves or flowers,
stories emerge. Today blankets of
Sweet Woodruff reveal the
truth about perennials,
how they sleep,
creep, then
​leap. 
Picture
Cool bird watches, ready for the violet creeping phlox to bloom. Photo by ERSwett
Yesterday,
the story was about
people - - crowds at the annual
Yard Sale where I purchased this dignified
bird, my friend Larry, who gave me these violets,
and Elmer, from whom we purchased
these River Birch trees over a 
​decade ago.
Picture
Larry's Violets & Elmer's River Birch Photo by ERSwett
And then
there's dandelions,
showing up in random places,
a pesky weed for some, but a cheerful
harbinger of health for others.
It's all about the narrative
we choose.
Picture
Proud Dandelion, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The
dandelion
at the foot of
a tree, shaded by
daffodils feels different
from the dandelion blowing
in the wind on a grassy 
hillside at the
​landfill.
Picture
Landfill Landscape May 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And the
hawk soaring
above that same landfill
inspires a different kind of reverence
than do robins digging
in my yard.
Picture
Hawk at the Lebanon Landfill, May 2020 Photo by ERSwett
I love
how even when
alone in the garden or on a
hillside in an industrial part of town, I
am with others, part of a narrative that transcends
the weather on a single day or my state
of mind in a given
moment.
Picture
Daffodils & Largeflower Bellwort Photo by ERSwett
Please.
May I find hope
in a time of trouble. Thank 
you for the gifts that emerge. Forget
me not. The world is sweet, even though it
can be hard to focus & things feel
blurry 
when people & plants
try to 
share space. It's
possible, ​though.
So much is
​possible.
Picture
Forget-Me-Not & Sweet Woodruff Photo by ERSwett
0 Comments

Please

5/7/2020

1 Comment

 
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No.
Picture
No Smoking.
Picture
No Parking.
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Positively No Parking.
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And
definitely
no bad behavior,
because cameras are recording
even me, meandering around empty
​back allies in Hanover, NH
on this cold day
​in May.
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There
are cracks
in the sidewalk...
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and bricks everywhere
provide structure.
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Yellows
seem particularly
​pronounced,
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warnings
inspiring discomfort,
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until
I look down
& see these leaves
emerge from
the grate...
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and this
tree in a small
garden in the midst 
of it all,
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and 
the word
​Please.
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Please.
One word,
simple & inviting.
Threats disappear. No
more cold and fear.
Just one word.
Please.
1 Comment
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