There is a garden...

There is a garden I can see through my office window. And while my body is inside my heart is often out there among the living green.

Originally it had been a standard suburban sort of thing with everything in place and hedges to cover where planning had not. It made sense on the architectural drawing but without care and without color it became a kind of designed frenzy and unpleasant to see. Nature has a kind of beauty but not everything natural is automatically beautiful.

Over the years when time allowed and the budget could be nipped and tucked I, and a handful of others, have planted new and colorful, weeded that which existed, and ruthlessly removed the faded and dying. All some gardens need is a hand to pluck weeds and the willingness to prune for the long term. And bit by bit it has become a more habitable place with those who live here now stepping out of thier apartment coccoons and spending time among the flowers.

This is a very noisy world, a place where everything shouts with ear drum breaking effect and there are only a few places where I can find rest and quiet. On my kayak as the sun sets over the lake. On the front porch with my mandolin. In the timeless flow of the Liturgy. And in my gardens.

I was born for Eden, we all were, and destined for now to live outside its gates. Some days everything seems shadows and screaming. But once in a while the fearsome angel stands aside and I can get a glimpse of what could have been, just outside my office window, and I know everything is going to be alright.