the garden ~ a collection of reflective musings

a collection of reflective musings inspired by visits to a small garden

Pause for a moment..... Take a deep Breath
Gaze at the wonderment....and feel refreshed
Natures blessings are many....
and Our Mother Earth will provide
if you will pause for a moment....stop here in your stride
The flowers are plentiful....here for your pleasure
Spirits and Divas dancing round all their treasure
Be very still....You may be surprised...
You may even catch a glimpse of a tiny sprite rise
Natures beauty is a mirror, reflecting back to us
For your heart to be full ~ seeing is a must
So pause for a moment,
Bathe your ears, nose and eyes
Take a moment of pleasure
in the Mothers Glory devised

~
Just Breathe

~ Welcome . . . to My Garden!



Our gardens reflect so much of who we are. Or, is it that the plant world bears, upon closer inspection, a closer resemblance to us humans than most are really willing to see?

One evening, while sitting in the summers gentle evening breeze, I shared a conversation with the man I am loving about his little garden. We talked about the plants there and what his vision was of this little garden...what work needed to be done, what plants he liked...and he welcomed my help in his little garden.

The man I am loving lives alone in a small but cozy space with a small rolling mound, approximately 10 feet by 16 feet, of earth as the front yard. The thing that first catches ones eye is the lush sprawling bougainvillea, with its bursts of passionate pink blossoms at the end of each gracefully arching branch. They seem to say Come here, I am a thing of beauty in this barren landscape and I can offer you my passion if you are willing to look more closely. As I view it, yes, all that magnificent beauty is there on the outside, showy and bright, but if you are willing to look a little closer, each bloom, each manifestation holds a surprise inside in the form of three pistils that will burst open into three tiny little white flowers that each have five little hearts and five little swords for their petals (the numbers three and five being magical for many reasons). Furthermore, there is the deeper essence of the whole plant, called the diva that speaks of the entire plants qualities, its ability to re-create over and over again and its deeper mysterious beauty. This is what speaks to me. This bougainvillea speaks of its sweeping, graceful branches, of its sprawling wildness, its rippled leaves. It speaks of its occasional thorn that it uses for protection against anyone who would choose to not approach it with care and loving tenderness. This is what speaks to my heart as I gently lift up its branches and pick out the fallen debris from underneath. Ironically, this plant resides right smack-dab in front of the door of the home of the man I am loving.

Around this beauty of a plant, lays barren dead weeds, the past years wildness and waste. What is still living, if that is what you would choose to call it, are the remnants of three rose bushes, the plant of love and romance; some French lavender, a plant for soothing restoration, protection and purification; and some very sad lantana with a pungent aroma that speaks of its once present vitality. However, I have come prepared to clear away the old and make some space for some newness to be invited in. I have come prepared, with a few good, reliable tools, to dig down deep; my hands plunged into the work, to pick through it all until the deeper beauty can again be seen.

As I begin to clear away, the plants begin to talk to me and they all say, dont give up, there is still a part of me that is alive, and can grow and re-create into beauty again...can you see me? Yes, I see it. So I listen carefully.... and I watch more carefully still. I begin with the first and smallest rosebush. At first glance the whole appears hopeless, but as I begin to cut away gently, what appears not worth attention, also bears a tender inside. I watch and I listen even more closely. There is more life here after all. It is just that all this old debris needs to be cleared away. This life needs some attention and nourishment, food for its core essence and some water for its thirst, to thrive again. And roses, known for their beauty but sharp thorns.... this rosebush did not prick me once with its thorns in objection of my attentiveness.

As I continue my work, I notice the dryness.... it is all so parched, so thirsty..... all of its ability to recreate, all of its juiciness, gone! Even the emptied snail shells are a testament to this dryness. They were once moist and juicy too. And I found that the Bermuda grass, most often the toughest garden foe, gave up its fight fairly easily in such dryness.

I came here today to think, about my life, about my happiness now, at this moment, working in this garden, with the earth, with this man. Working in the garden has always helped me to reflect and find my answers. I came here to think and to work and instead, to my surprise, I was inspired. I was inspired to love this garden, and to love my life. I was inspired to love this man even more, and I was inspired to write this little story.... But even though it is a little story, it is a good story. It is a story of richness and abundance. It is a story of restoration, re-creation and renewal. It is a story that grew up out of this tiny garden with hearts at the center for petals. It is a good story. It is a good garden....and the man I love is a good man. They all just need a little attention, a little work, a little patience, a little space.... and a little caring to thrive again.

Before I left this time, I took an empty bottle of the favorite beer of the man I am loving, that was filled with buts and I shook them all out, gave it a good swish of fresh water to wash away the residue and I set it on his threshold with a sprig of the bougainvilleas showy blooms. They beckon, look more deeply at what is here waiting for you...look at what I harvested today, this 7th day of autumn. This man will get the message for his heart and soul are also of this garden. You just have to look a little more deeply within him to see it.

So this garden that sits in front of the house of the man I am loving... this tiny garden, trusted and welcomed my care and taught me much today. This garden is very much like the man I am loving.

Ive only spent a little time there so far, and maybe I will go back tomorrow. But if not, I can already see and am happy with the difference. I am happy with the fruits of my labors and what I harvested today. I am happy with this garden, this life, this work, and this man.

So, do our gardens reflect us or do we reflect our gardens? ........... I think so.