May in the garden

Ah May you are such a delicious creature… you fill my cup to the brim with gladness beyond description…

Days are not long enough; hours slip though my fingers like water. My tongue lacks sufficient praises and my heart songs enough with which to thank you for all you bring and all you let me see, smell and feel…

I thank you, Lord of all creation for every little thing in Nature, every goodness and every virtuousness that comes from your hand… My soul thank you and praise you for every gift you bestow upon my soul and for every sign of your presence left scattered around for me to discover and be at awe... for every thread of petal and wisp of perfume; for every feather and every bird.

 
I visit and revisit my garden a dozen times a day, and there's not a time when I won't stand in deep contemplation at all which surrounds me... the very little things; every big thing I see and touch and smell... for every presence and every petal.

With a tenderness and love that nobody who hasn’t ever taken part in this process of creation can experience, I fall to my knees and ask for more… more, more… more time, more Mays, longer days, an extension of the season of love and petals and birds and a prolonged season of beauty.

I cannot stop coming here dreaming here living my hours and days here—among blooms anew like feather wings… everyday is a new form of life a new blossom a new green crowned head breaking the soil as perennials push through the earth in a wonderful new beginning—like a birth, filling the earth with hope and joy and a new glory each day.

But everything in the garden is as ephemeral as life itself, and the green-crowned woodnymphs of my forest are vanishing in front of my eyes with the same swiftness and amazement in which they had arrived…  the sumptuous flowers of the crabapples and cherry trees, the sublime lilac bouquets, the white as snow Viburnum and Snowball flowers—where have they gone to?  Show me your paths that I may follow!   

And yet, life in the garden is also a succession of life itself, a circle of life and a string of pearls; one following the next in a glorious chain of blooms…. And thus, right now the garden is ready for its inaugural and splendorous show of roses and peonies…  I can hardly wait to see my roses in bloom; the old ones and the new ones!  And the garden is so appreciative, I should mention, too.  For it amazes me how it has responded to my care since I came back to it… every bush and shrub has improved immensely, every rose recovered and expanded… as if in response to my care is reciprocating in a thousand blessings...