The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.
~Dorothy Frances Gurney, "Garden Thoughts"




My fledgling garden has been a place of refuge. I've spent hours upon hours covered in earth, burying my wishes, secrets and troubles among the dahlias and daisies.




Frankly, there is no place I would rather be. A perfect afternoon for me is Norah spinning dreamily in circles while I dig, prune, and drift among the rhythm of fat bumble bees,



spinning cosmos, and perfumed roses.




My breath and thoughts slow in the company of birds and bugs, and I find my beauty (all beauty),



instinctual and intended.



I am grateful for a small piece of earth to call my own,



and to do my best with.



So here is to my little garden in it's 11th hour of it's first fall.