Have you ever shared something meaningful, to see a blank expression appear on the listeners face and you realize—

they do not understand. I spoke with a farmer the other day and when I said “the smell of fresh tilled earth” his eyes lit-up like the fourth of July fireworks. I could only say that to someone who shares the pleasure of working in soil and get that response.

It has happened to me before when I was with a group of people discussing ‘home-made bread’. They unanimously agreed the frozen-ready to bake-loaves were just like homemade. My (unspoken) protest would have fallen on deaf ears, because I love to make bread and I would have said, “It’s not about the bread.”

That’s how I feel about my gardens. Friends, the flowers are lovely but my garden is not all about the flowers. It’s about the plants that start in the nursery garden, the seeds uncurling and popping through the earth. Plants friends have shared. The time on my knees in prayer and time weeding quack grass from the earth and quack grass ‘thoughts’ from my mind.

Much of my writing is created while I am working in the gardens, and do have an abundance of gardens, an herb garden, green and white garden, Victorian garden, lily garden and 2500 square feet of perennial gardens. If you are in the neighborhood you are welcome to stop and enjoy the flowers but for me, it’s not all about the flowers.

It’s about so much more!

Blessings on your day,