Feather and Stone Journal Of A Cross Cultural Traveler

Garden Magic

It’s a funny thing.

I sit at the computer doing well and with mostly positive things on my mind, then I go outside to the garden and all that is important is really right there. I actually already knew that, but today I know it deeper.

The garden is magic. It’s the song Mother Earth sings if you just take a handful of minutes to harmonize with her. It is extraordinary. Tending the garden is about planting and weeding and watering and harvesting. Yet it is also about altering relationship with the universe and oneself

I look at my tiny garden and am again reminded that every inch of the earth is holy. It is easier to remember that holiness when it looks like the Scottish Highlands, or the beach at Chatham, or Vermont in Late September but really, the Lillies in the garden carry all of the majesty of any of those places.

We humans have lost track of that to some extent and need shock and awe vistas to remind us “Oh, yeah, the earth— it is beautiful!” even though it is right outside the door, at this moment, wherever we are.

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