And then there is a real garden somewhere where I live…
. Brilliant green
leaves have covered rose bushes that only in July were doing so poorly, and
they're overflowing with new buds ready to open for a last final feat. garden
It is a lovely morning here, and I’m standing in the brim of that garden contemplating my domain in all its early glory. Wild hair, body and mind loving the extra sunshine soaking into my bones; between my hands a warm cup of coffee—warming me, because mornings are already turning precariously chilly around here. But the garden loves the change, and it is bright and cheery following the cooler temperatures.
The perfume of the night garden is different, and so is the garden in itself. There is a feeling of repose and quietness to it in the opaque evenings, and as the brightness of August recedes, I see it shifting from the rather dusty and dry late summer garden, back to the lush and graceful
Every wee voice of the garden I hear; every tiny creature I see... and as I stand here saluting the new day, I’m thinking how fortunate I am to have been born in this old world of ours.
Green green, vivid green. Green must be my favorite color these days... I want my world surrounded by green. I want to walk out of my house and sit in it. My happiness is absolute when I’m here—in my enchanted garden...
And why enchanted? The occurrences ensued; the wonders, the feelings, the dreams and reveries of the mind and heart and soul. And then, the ‘intuitions’—a necessity for those visions to bear real.
And how much I love the mixture of many layers of shiny emerald and silver green leaves with splashes of roses and lilies and snapdragons...
I like to think that all the roots are joyfully mingling together underground, like siblings in a large family, and that down there, underground, where no one could see is warm and cozy and it feels like a dear house you cannot be away from it for too long.
We build enclosures that help us escape a hectic world and quietly focus on creation, but for me a chair on the garden can double as a church pew when one is fully immersed in what you see there, and hear and feel...
“The days come and go like muffled and veiled figures sent from a distant friendly party; but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away” (Ralph Waldo Emerson)thoughts.