The Impossible Garden
& The Wildforest
ART & STORIES BY MARICHIT GARCIA
“Grow where you are planted.” The other version is “Bloom where you are planted."
I want to edit that a bit. Plant yourself where you want to be and grow. Plant yourself where you know you will grow to the best that you are, where you have the most chance of becoming your potential. There are ways. Ask the trees. Ask the bees.
I was planted in a field designed for yielding produce for profit. I grew for a while and then I started to wither inside. On the outside I was a tree that got stuck in autumn. I threw a seed of myself far away. Rode river streams and hitched with storm winds. I planted myself in a wild forest, and grew a little bit wild myself.
But an ultimatum was given. Echoes from that old field. I felt the threat of an axe's consideration. I was not ready to die that way yet, even if I wanted to. My old branches trembled with the anxiety of those nesting among my leaves.
So I put the wild forest self asleep. I had grown into wobbly treeling, too soon taking a deep breath and then closing its eyes and hoping it will wake up again.
A seed knows how to wait. Most seeds wait for at least a year before starting to grow; a cherry seed can wait for a hundred years with no problem. What exactly each seed is waiting for is known only to that seed.
I pulled my consciousness to gather back in that old still autumn tree.
I shook and shivered to shed my leaves. Not without dread. Not without sighs.
I am now an old stark winter tree, awaiting a resurgence of spring.