Now Only Nasturtium

A poem for what is rather than what might have been

What was supposed to be a bed of calendula and chamomile is now only nasturtium.

While I slept and while I stumbled — the garden grew,

not as I had imagined, nor wanted.

No spinach or kale. Nothing to eat.

But we are not of another century or of another place —

I can have greens delivered to my door, a salad for dinner.

It is not the same, but I let the nasturtium explode —

even though I can bend at the waist now, even though I can dig at the root, finally, again.

I planted the seeds of this raised bed a few weeks before my hip and back pain started. You might note that in my gardening journal plans pictured above, no nasturtium seeds were planted — and yet.

Today was the first day since early October that I’ve been able to work in the garden even a little bit, and I am feeling grateful for my returning strength.

E. Katherine Kottaras holds an M.A. in English and an M.S. in Kinesiology with a focus on Integrative Wellness, and she is a writer and teacher, having worked at the middle, high school, and community college levels for over two decades. She is a registered yoga teacher, personal trainer, and health coach while also living with invisible illnesses and neurodivergence, and she is passionate about mindfulness, bodily self-determination, and health equity. As the queer daughter of an immigrant, Katherine believes that holistic and inclusive approaches to healing and growth should be accessible to all.

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