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The stillness of the evening garden is interrupted by a gifted breeze tumbling over the old gray fence. The unexpected visitor calls the members of each garden bed to move in domino fashion before rustling a nesting hen from her trance. Garden torches begin to flutter like inter-dimensional butterflies as a string of lights taps a gentle rhythm against the fence. I look across the blue-tiled table to find my Eve in a state of quiet gratitude. I love her more than twenty years before.
Quiet but busy
As the botanical orchestra settles into its ten o’clock habit I remind myself that stillness in the garden is always an illusion. The whispers of quiet respiration echo in the leaves, stems, and even burrowing roots below. Each cell in motion acts as a witness of the divine. God is with us in our garden. Might I sharpen my ears and focus my eyes to behold the full majesty of His Creation.
Smell the Rose Geranium
Our evening garden offers us much-needed relief from the constraints of objective time. In a world where we are accustomed to tilling the ground from whence we were taken, it seems only natural that we would yearn for even a moment in that perfected garden given to our first parents so long ago. If you’ve ever sat by the warm glow of garden tikis while smelling a sprig of Licorice Basil or Rose Geranium you will know how special the gift of the garden is. If you’ve ever inhaled the exquisite perfume flowing from a curtain of old-fashioned sweet peas you will know special the gift of the garden is.
I turn to catch a glimpse of my youngest daughter dancing slowly through towering stalks of green. The corn acts as her own secret garden until the cobs are ready. This moment is what matters most in my world right now. The joy that knits our hearts together will carry us through the longest days of this life. Our moment of bliss is interrupted by a Katydid (Katy) clicking her song in a nearby tree. She reminds us that we can never be truly alone in the garden. For a moment my mind races as I consider the hungry mouths lurking around MY vegetables. Then I remember MY joy and concede that sharing is the way of the garden.
Hens and crystals
The crown jewel of our garden is a double cattle panel tunnel adorned with strings of festival lights. The end of the tunnel frames a set of white doors that lead into a chicken run which is home to a dozen friendly hens sleeping in a bright red coop. Faceted crystals hanging from the top of the tunnel seem to float in mid-air as they sprinkle bits of light far beyond the confines of the tunnel. On both sides of the hanging crystals, a lush green curtain of cucumber and bitter melon vines sneak their way toward the apex of the tunnel. Sitting under the tunnel lights with your beloved can bring peace to a world-weary soul if you let it.
Last act of the evening
Before the curtain falls and we leave the garden to rest we all enjoy a sampling of perfectly plump cherry tomatoes along with a few late-season peas directly from sleeping stems. We savor our last memory of sweetness before turning the lights off and extinguishing the last tiki torch.
Tonight the garden tends to us. Tomorrow we will tend to the garden. Each season my garden teaches different lessons and brings new joy. Whether you have access to acres of land or just a few pots on a patio you can experience the joy and connection that the garden brings. Until we meet again.
Adam
Therapy for my soul. Loved this