“Sometimes it’s hard to get to our jobs on time, according to plan. Arrival time is accepted as subjective if you live in certain countries, but here in the US, we have to watch the clock. Every move we make is either paid, or unpaid. Personally, I could not label myself as early, or late, as a general rule. I straddle the middle. I will suffer, to make up 15 minutes, in certain situations. I want to play fair with everyone. So when our client said: “There’s just too much thyme on the patio”, we had to bridge the gap between linguistics, plants and our own sense of proportion. What is “too much”? Much to my chagrin, I began to argue with her. “We spent a whole day on that, last summer”, I said, lamely. She looked at me kindly, in an attempt to consider my absurd assertion, regarding an irrelevant timeline. Ten points to the client, zero to the landscape specialist. Her compassionate demeanor put me to shame. “We’ll get after it”, I said, adding it to an already long, mental list of must-dos. Gosh, why had we sat on the bench at the general store for ten minutes instead of rushing here to meet our critical objectives? Suddenly, a cat bird pierced my over-thinking, as my gaze rose up and over the main garden, into a grove of massive old trees. Here, I remembered, was yet another measure of time. Their groaning, and creaking would eventually become our late fall soundtrack. I’ve always looked forward to it, and know it by rote. Avian ridicule be damned, here in the dog days of August, I’m surely a lover of all hidden messages, that come to me, regarding the future. In the steamy August sun we sat on the hot patio stones, not unpleased with our task, to reduce time. I mean, thyme. I also cut back chives, celeriac, oregano and lavender. The tools of our trade are basically, sharp scissors, here where things are out of hand. No one’s table and chairs can move, on a carpet of thyme. It might be a cute, side note, or proof of fertility, but excess time can clog up the normal functioning of things. I don’t know why time is so prolific. None of us want it to be. We so much prefer, a pace we can determine according to our mood. “Don’f feel like it, tonight”, I might admit. “Would rather wait and see”. Don’t give me more time, or time for excess analysis, unless it’s with a trusted associate. Let’s trend towards an expansion of the good times. The honest, ordinary, sit-on-my-porch and chit-chat times. Hey, rest a while as the day cools, and I’ll serve you up something you like, in a cool, mountain glass.”
