Marbles

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I found all my marbles in France.

I guess I knew they were lost – but that’s the thing about trying to find them again. Where do you begin to look? I never would have imagined that they were buried in a garden in the middle of Europe.

Each of us can only seem to inhabit our own bodies at any given time (notable exceptions are typically locked away, and for good reason) so I don’t really know how it is for other people. But moving to Europe was, for me, very hard.

Complicating the already tough task of finding a new place to live, arranging a car, learning where everything is and … oh yeah, dealing with a completely new language and culture… we were also dealing with a greater than necessary share of nonsense at work and a relatively stressful battle with the US legal system. So things were pretty tough for a couple of months. It seemed that the universe was determined to punch us in the gut whenever it seemed that we were about to catch our breath.

So I took to working in the garden. Seemed a relatively sensible thing to do. I had thought that this was something doddering old men who mumbled to themselves a lot did. And even though my hair now has its fair share of gray, and I have been known to occasionally mumble… anyway, I never saw myself as a gardener.

Besides, I have never had a real garden before – or at least never something that other people might be tempted to call a garden. And I am, of course, speaking of a proper garden. Not one of those puny patches that seem all too common in modern Britannia. In the UK, it seems to me, people are a bit free with the term. Any bit of ground in the vicinity of a house that is not covered with concrete is called a “garden.”

“Nigel and I were having tea in the garden this afternoon,” you might hear, conjuring images of badminton or croquet on the lawn, tea served by women in long white dresses on wicker furniture in a vine-covered gazebo. Reality is more likely two folding chairs perched precariously on a rough patch of weeds, wedged tightly between the car and the rubbish bins.

But this was (or at least would be) a relatively proper garden. I must admit, however, that it was a bit of a mess. The people who lived in the house before us had four large dogs that had delighted in digging huge holes in the lawn and burying bits of sofas and abandoned Fiats. The dirt and weeds boiled like a stormy sea. There were fruit trees as well, ancient things that brushed against the house and fought with each other for bits of the sky.

For weeks we spent the cool evenings cutting back the trees, and digging. I determined that the only way to tame the churning waters of a lawn was to dig it up completely, remove all vegetation, and smooth it back into place. So with a shovel and a rake and a mind full of anxiety in need of therapy – I began to dig.

Senlis is an ancient town and I was digging in earth that may have lay undisturbed (by humans anyway – but the dogs certainly had beat me to it) for many years. I imagined all sorts of potential treasure that might be found during this spiritual quest.

SENLIS, FRANCE

A recent immigrant digging in his garden discovered an extremely valuable artifact that scientists believe may unlock the mystery surrounding the disappearance of the lost city of Atlantis. Valued in the millions, this discovery will no doubt help him pay the incredibly expensive rent they charge in France and the high cost of the rental car.

“I just turned over the shovel and there it was,” Warmke stated like some rube whose trailer was just hit by a tornado. “Golly, I ain’t never seen nothing like this before.”

Needless to say I didn’t find any Roman coins, or nuggets of gold, or priceless bits of pottery. But I did find my marbles. Twenty-two of them to be exact. The first was silvery, catching a bit of sunshine as it lay in the dirt. The second a yellow “cat’s eye.” They seemed relatively old, and nearly every day I unearthed another. When the task was complete, my treasure box from the garden contained the marbles, 3 plastic army men, a spent cartridge from a German rifle, a domino (the number 3…4), and two French coins from the 1960’s.

I think I will keep this little bit of treasure for a while. In some ways it is much more valuable than gold. After digging, I feel I can catch my breath. The universe has let up on me a bit.

The lawn in our garden is now green and flat and there are flowers that line the ancient stone walls. There are pears on the trees, as well as apples. We have eaten some cucumbers that not too long ago were just an idea. And our cat loves this place. He attacks fallen leaves and dreams of one day snaring that bird that lives high in the Forsythia bush.

Perhaps this is why Atlantis disappeared eons ago. Maybe they lost all their marbles and did not think to look for them in a proper garden where the soil is dark and smooth and an overweight house cat is Lord of the Jungle.

written by Jay Warmke - July, 2002

Marbles