06/06/2026
Last year I stopped by Hal's house in North Berkeley (Kensington). The scattered collection of his favorite dahlia plants in the front yard were all gone. The canoe and empty bee hive boxes that long anchored his driveway had vanished. The array of hastily planted and placed potted plants along the entrance walkway to his front door was gone The jungle of plants (humorously to me) in his front yard that overwhelmed and camouflaged the sidewalk were no more. The front of the house looked like a barren unrecognizabel desert to me ....except for the persimmon tree....which I used to prune for Hal.
Of course all these changes have taken place ....because Hal died almost twenty years ago. But I am still incredulous about the change because my memories are so cogent. I almost expected to hear Hal's voice echo from the garage or see his head poke from behind a bush. I can't believe all that time has passed. I think of Hal this time of year regularly. When I walk along the trails through my garden I stop occasionally and pull out some weeds and set them in a clump. . I see Hal clearly in my memory in his yard after I have just arrived for a visit.....we talk and walk ....and he pulls some weeds here and there and lays them along the walkway....just like I do now. The "battle" with the weeds is mostly a losing one....we only make a strategic headway....and with that realization it becomes a sort of meditation.
We all know that our future will one day include a one way chauffeured trip with death. As I sit here typing at my desk and turn to look out the window....some day someone I will never meet will be in this room looking out the same window....at some still existing plants and trees that I have nurtured and watched over the years.
I was close friends with my former landlady. I made some remodelling improvements to the house and garden a couple of years after I bought the place. I invited my landlady to visit, but she told me that she preferred to remember it as she had known it. I won't go back to Hal's house. I prefer to remember it how it was ....so I can see Hal in the garage making wine....so I can see Hal pouring bags of farmer's market produce on the table and inviting me for dinner....so I can see Hal in the garden and meditatively watch him casually pull weeds.
Do ghosts walk among us, or are they solidified memories that we hold dear. And if there's no past or future, but only the now....then we're all sort of ghosts walking among each other and pulling weeds.
