A gardener's diary

There’s a newness all round… a fresh new coolness under imperturbable skies in the bluest of summer colors, and I found myself watering the garden this morning clad in my old pink sweater. I was also able to sit down for a while outside without having to fling open the big patio umbrella. What marvelous marvelous whether we’re having, and such fine change from the detestable heat of the past few weeks.

Two of the Crepe Myrtles in our garden are heavy with buds ready to bloom in another succession of marvelous mauves and amethysts. I am anxiously expecting the other four I had planted his spring to show their jewels; particularly the Acoma Crepe Myrtle, which is to gift us with blooms of perfect white pearls.

 A friend, I wonder which one among so many, left me a very special gift in the garden the other morning… hidden amongst leaves of emerald, just for me to find it and be delighted...

Sometimes when I’m working in the garden I feel the nearness of the Great I Am very close… I would stop whatever I may be doing, and look around… and listen—giant trees high above reaching the heavens with stretched arms, as their shaggy green heads bend together… in prayer, I ask?, and sway gently in the breezes above my thoughts… In wonder and admiration I keep listening… humbleness and wonderment filling my very being like a precious butterfly, making me feel beautifully free, and wholly… my spirit outstretched, twirling in the wind forever. 

The other day I was watering the only climbing rose I have embellishing my newly established garden. Kneeling down by it, as I removed dead leaves and such, all of a sudden I felt the gentlest of touch caressing my shoulder… I immediately knew what it was even without having to lift up my eyes… a thing alive, a thing with a heart and soul, I should say. And it was so familiar this touch, so well-known like the nearness of a dear friend you haven’t seen in a while, that in that very moment I realize how very much I had missed them… my thoughts flew to the house in the roses like a little bird escaped from the soul in that very moment… Yes, it was the rose caressing my shoulder… the rose, perhaps vending down upon me to show its appreciation? I miss my roses profoundly… but I keep on dreaming...

Seasons are pretty much like the days of our lives, we have to watch them come and go by us and try to enjoy the mystery behind its fleeting moments. All that's left of them is the memory and whatever emotion we attach to them. So Alas, we must enjoy every moment...

The summer garden is a poet’s palettes of sensations, feelings and emotions written in colors.... pretty soon, with the arrival of fall, it will be like waking from a dream and stepping out into the world once again. But for now... mud on my feet, sunshine tattooing my skin, the smell of fresh earth in my body, in my hair; freckles, blameless wrinkles, and then... then there is this freshness; this glorious newness all around—the second spell of summer, I called it.  Flowering trees and bushes are in full bloom again, indescribable gorgeous marvelous... I can hardly recognize this place from what it originally looked like when we bought it.

Strange little surprises along the garden... a sign, an invitation to enchanted places. Every hour is a new bird, a new song, a new sprout, new blossom... the sweet smells of things growing, life unfurling—predictable things.... unpredictable happenings.  Things that always, always, know how to enchant and take your breath away.

And now, off I go, to catch the enchantment of quiet evenings… I had noticed that as the season progresses, so do the night lanterns, the fireflies, lessen. Still, there’s a new beauty to the dark of nights… I want to capture it all and hold it in my heart.

Until next time my lovelies...   

peace, love and a pinch of imagination 

to carry you over life's rainbow!

LINKING TO:
FISHTAIL COTTAGE GARDEN PARTY
FLORAL FRIDAY FOTOS
TODAY'S FLOWER