Monday, August 24, 2009

A raspberry is not a metaphor

So, I was in one of those moods, where I'm sick of being in my own head, but good and stuck there.

God: (to whom I wasn't especially talking at the time) You ought to go out back.
Me: Yeah, I guess You're right. Watching the weeds choke the life out of the strawberries won't put me in a worse mood, and I can put a hose on the tomatoes.
God: Whatever. Just go outside.

So I go outside and pull ugly weeds for a while.

Me: Hey, raspberries!

They've got viney weeds creeping up them, and they've developed an infestation of little black bugs I haven't seen before, but still I get a whole grundle—enough to eat AND share.

Me (working my way down a row of defunct broccoli): Whoa. Golden raspberries.

I bet I got a dozen—almost unheard of from this bush, whose raspberries are called "golden" for more than one reason.

God: Heh. Told you so.

Lots of Useful Mental Health Facts , and some Tedious Metaphors could be gleaned here. But a raspberry is not a metaphor. It's a very small gift from heaven. And a golden raspberry is an outright miracle.

3 comments:

  1. Yay for a wonderful non-metaphorical gift! (I'm here via Luisa/Novembrance, by the way.) This was simply a delicious post.

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  2. I am so living inside my head right now so this really struck a chord with me. I don't know what's waiting for me outside, but I'm feeling a sudden urge to find out.

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Lee Ann Setzer's blog about books, writing, and life in general.