As I gazed upon the garden this Monday morning and took in all the beauty and abundance there—the vast shades of green, interspersed with the reds and the deep brown earth—I felt proud of my work and the work of the dear ones who help me to create such a bucolic scene of bounty.  With the scent and rush of Spring just here, the lingering days and the burst of the full moon we are experiencing, all is in seeming synchronicity here—making a garden in a full-on state of grace. Then I remembered the times when nature takes a turn in just the flutter of a thrush’s wing—humbling us in the wake of its’ wind,  rain,  intense sun or insect devastation. Just as I can take no credit for the events which set us back some, I can take no credit for the orchestration of elements which conspired to bring the splendor of this morning’s garden. I can only offer my hands, my hard work and my unceasing gratitude.

“There’s little risk in becoming overly proud of one’s garden because gardening by its very nature is humbling. It has a way of keeping you on your knees.”…Joanne R. Barwick, in Readers Digest (1993)

A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.”…Mary Sarton, At Seventy (1984)