It’s the time of year where gardeners are full of hopes and dreams, and plans to create and produce a garden. Some love flowers, others vegetables, others are landscape artists.
Even after the disappointments of last year, the severe heat and drought, there is fresh hope of a new start. I realised though, recently, that the garden in my mind might be more perfect than realistic.
So I grew a garden in my mind, and penned these words:
I grew a garden in my mind,
breaking ground,
adding rich soil.
Strong and supple, I bent
arranging seeds
accompanied by prayers
and buried them,
with the promise of
resurrection.
Broken, and shooting up life,
gifts of beauty, colour and
nourishment.
My garden had no weeds.
No pesky invasive insects.
The sunflowers shot up
forming strong proud heads.
The beans twisted their way
around poles, sending tendrils
into the air.
Strawberries sweet, cucumbers fresh
dill and basil to flavour my world.
I grew a garden in my mind.
Body strong, the rains soft,
the sun gentle and kind.
But I don’t live in Eden.
So I tend to my aching back
and stretch.
I pull out weeds,
so many weeds
and fling away the rocks.
My garden won’t be perfect.
The wind will blow and
the bugs will come.
But I can
and will
delight in every miracle.
The first zucchini blossom.
The first raspberry.
The flowers showing sunny faces,
or holding drops of rain.
This garden is a learning
– just like my life.
Challenges, difficulties,
moments of Joy
and intense gratitude.
– Grace Wulff April 2022
A garden in my mind
