I wish I could walk out of my garden gate straight to a placid meadow stretching away to a distant wood; I’d dwell in lupine fields where the blues and purples and crimsons clothe the fields and embellish grassland and pastures and meadows in wonderful variety of shades and scents. But then, I have my own
to live in—my garden...
I practically live here from April to September. And every day and every hour spent in it is a joy. I don’t see much need to travel or go places because to me there’s no better place on earth to be than right where my heart lives—spending my hours sitting under the big umbrella, or under garlands of grape leaves, with soft lush grasses; pruning roses that have so much to give and so much to give thanks for. And every morning before I leave the house for work, I’d go out to the garden and welcome the morning.
This morning it was wonderfully quiet, and so wonderfully beautiful because the North American Tanager up on the highest branch of the flowering pear tree was all to himself bestowing the garden with a most enchanting piece; unusually lovely too because, the Hanna hummingbird that’s been visiting my garden this summer was already there fluttering about the honeysuckle vine with wings so swift it almost looked unreal.
What a treasure birds are. They’re such amazing creatures.
I had filled each birdfeeder and birds have already discovered them. Thus... above my head the airways were already busy. Happy twirling and chirpings and gurgutal songs filled the morning’s air. What a blessing that was.