Falling in love with chillies

Gardening is not for me, I thought,
Imagine being a servant to a plant -
Hungry, thirsty, dry, wet,
Boring.

Maybe herbs,
A practical investment for flavours sake
That doesn’t demand much but rewards generously
could be an exception, I ventured.
But gardening is not for me,
Don’t you even think it.

Plastic crunches as the seedlings are prodded
Out of their temporary home,
And into the care of a naive man,
That embarrasses the basil
By confusing nurture with labour.

The chillies are assertive in their allure,
Daring you to ignore their transformation
Knowing that even naive men,
Will succumb to boyish excitement
As the first flower is conjured into life.

The chilli courts first with flowers,
And then with flesh.
A linked intensifying of colour and gardener’s interest.
Duties become pleasures,
And nourishment is shared.

Today I learned patience from a chilli.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll learn compassion
From a cucumber,
Or strength from the strawberries.

Andrew Bloyce