I hope you’ve been enjoying following our #ThisIsWhatANerdLooksLike campaign. We’ve got some great pictures on our Facebook and Twitter. Thank you everyone for your support. In case you missed it, here’s the essay from Ethan that started it all. You’ll also want to check out our second essay from Eliza here. And now, it is my privilege to introduce you to our third contribution.
This story comes to us from Roxy, Grey Havens YA’s first official member. She’s also our oldest member and will be graduating soon. (We don’t like to think about that, but we’re also so proud of her and excited to see how she takes Grey Havens YA out into the world with her.) Roxy’s story brought tears to our eyes. If it inspires you, please consider supporting us and please share with us your own nerd stories and photos. (You can Phone the TARDIS or Send us an owl by commenting on this post.) Enjoy her tale below the photo. #ThisIsWhatANerdLooksLike
Everyday, the gardeners come out to water their land, brimming with flowers. Their flowers were variegated, with colors whispering through morning mist. Red and orange and yellow and green–oh! The green! The green was never ending, roots of effervescent blooms climbing high and expanding thick.
There was a day in which the gardeners were not tenders, and tender were the roots and wilting were the blooms. Not unlike Hamlet’s unweeded garden of Denmark, the prickly weeds and choking vines thrived in this garden, and the radiant tulips, marigolds, sunflowers could barely soak in the gradient light of day. Dirt had been splattered up and down the bittersweet undergrowth by the down-pouring of May showers, while the tall, greedy weeds were leaves pristine.
One day, two women, on their way to Denver Comic Con, walked by this garden with knapsacks on their backs and handkerchiefs stocked safely away in their front pockets. They saw this unapparent garden, and saw a few small buds peeking through the tangle, and shared a look–a look of owls. Knapsacks dropped to the earth in a puff of smoke and contents within spilled out in a flurry of hands; there was an impossible amount of trinkets and tools alike spilling out, but impossibilities have been known to happen. Gracious women and their hoes and shovels and pruners cut gently leaves pristine and stems unabated (gently, though of course, for weeds are still akin to flowers). Uncovered was the weak yet fragrant and gorgeous garden, planted in ancient times but never grown to their full potential–left to rot.
Together they secured the flowers, piling dirt to their base for support; cutting off the vines strangling them and pulling them back to the earth; and watering them with the purest water, ethereally glowing in the sunlight, and cleaning the leaves sullied. The sun baked off the water droplets from now leaves glowing and vivid, and the earth soaked up water now available to the flowers. Slowly the garden regenerated, standing tall and pungent to the women’s sensitive noses.
The women set up camp here, in this garden, and no matter how far they went–whether it be Denver Comic Con or the White House–their home would always be gently bringing life to that garden, ambitiously nurturing them to grow as high as they can and never letting their stems snap.
This is Grey Havens Group: YA; two women who allow and encourage us humble outcasts to survive and thrive.