Apple blossoms and honeybees in the backyard.
(Photos by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
And the secret garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles.
– Frances Hodgson Burnett
Recorded the birdsong and flowers I found in my garden this morning – I wish I could give you the fragrance, too… 🙂
Click here for a zen moment in Karen’s Secret Garden.
“Might I,” quavered Mary, “might I have a bit of earth?”
However many years she lived, Mary always felt that she should never forget that first morning when her garden began to grow.
And the Secret Garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles.
– from The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Fourteen years ago, my Secret Garden started with a lilac bush, a couple knee-high azaleas, a stubby mock orange, some wild roses, and twin flowers. And look at it today – it is a haven for birds and bunnies, and me. I walk through a portal of climbing clematis, and sit underneath a canopy of Cecile Brunner climbing roses which have been in my family for more than 50 years, and watch the birds splash around in the birdbath I set out for them, and eat from the feeders I hung from the ash tree branches. There is something very satisfying about watching the garden evolve, and watching the wild creatures visit and enjoy its peace…
Last spring on my walk through the neighborhood I noticed a rose bush growing up amongst the weeds and tall grass at the side of the road. It was kind of scraggly-looking, but it had cultured-looking leaves and a plucky little crimson rose dangling from one of the branches. It looked to me like the rose bush must have been forgotten and abandoned when the owners of the nearby house had moved out the year before. I was tempted, then, to dig it up and bring it home with me, but the house was up for sale now, and I figured it wasn’t my place to remove the rose bush. I really hoped, though, that whoever moved in would find the rose bush and recognize its value and nurture it back to health.
Months went by, the house remained uninhabited, and one day I noticed everything on the side of the road had been shaved off – including the rose bush. I could no longer find even a stubble of it. And then signs of a construction project began to appear there – heavy equipment and gravel and vegetation rolled flat. I kept an eye out for the rose bush – but could find no trace of it. I’d just about given up hope of ever seeing it again when, a few days after the heavy equipment arrived, I finally saw a twig with a rose leaf hanging from it sprouting out of the mashed-up blackberry vines and grass. I quickly scooted home, returned to the rose bush with a bucket and shovel, and dug her up.
By this time it was September. September is not the best time to dig up a rose bush, but I knew if I waited even another day that little rose bush would be toast. (I was right about that, too – the next day big concrete slabs were sitting in the place where the rose bush had been.) So I brought the rose bush home with me and prayed to know it as the idea of Love – held forever safe in the consciousness of Love.
And look at her now! 🙂