To Garden is to be Alone ~ to be alone and be all right with such solitude. It is a quiet business for the most part. A few scant screeches of the crows and the off-hand chattering of squirrels are the only sounds that break the still air.
There is peace in the garden. In an age of rapid, noisy movement, the garden is the great escape ~ a return to a simpler and somehow more meaningful time, when summers stretched onward forever and winter was the stuff of a few fleeting snowfalls.
A garden provides the sanctity and peace for contemplation. Through the quiet comes clarity, and one can finally hear the inner-voice that is too often subdued. In a seasonal cycle the gardener cannot help but reflect on his or her own life, and in the resounding quietude find answers and understanding.
The garden will not be rushed. It gently but unwaveringly demands patience. Seeds will sprout when and only when they are ready, cuttings will take root in their own time, and flowers will not be coaxed into blooming until their conditions are perfectly met.
On the same token, the garden will not be kept waiting. A laissez-faire attitude and lackadaisical lethargy can be deadly. A missed week of water because of a vacation in high summer will be rewarded with a few dry, dead spots upon one’s return, and neglected patches of dandelions too soon send their parachutes across the entire expanse of the lawn.
These are the lessons of the garden ~ learned and understood in silence and quiet. The art of gardening can reveal the art of living ~ one has only to listen and heed its gentle call.
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