Eve in her garden...

Hostas are opening to their full dark green beauty... 

And the ones growing in pots are gracing paths and trails beautifully... 

The peony bushes are heavy with blossoms ready to amaze the soul of the gardener.  They can be seen everywhere around the garden, and I was surprised, upon discovering them earlier this spring, by how many of them are coming back—all healthy and full as they can be.  These are all the peony plants I planted everywhere around the garden from that original single bush.  And then left.  The ones I pulled out earlier this winter and relocated to some better places, are also doing splendidly.  All from that same cutting, and all in that same marvelous pink.  

The two grapevines I let be are not disappointing me either.  They are growing stronger each day, and I’m making sure only a few shoots remain; pruning the bottom parts of the healthy trunk almost daily, to maintain neatness and a more abundant crop of grapes this autumn.

Long ago, I planted a small cutting of some type of a fern I got from a friend’s garden; feeble enough to had me believe back then it would never make it.  But then I left, and didn’t get to see what had transpired out of it.  And what a pleasant surprise this was—to find these fleecy beauties growing strong and beautiful everywhere. Another proof that nothing is really dead; at least not forever anyway.

Sprinklers!  How I adore watching the sprinklers go off every morning.  The garden loves it too, and grasses are super green and lush.  Another blessing, compared to all the watering shores and toils I was faced with in my gardens at the little white cottage.

 Cares melt away when I kneel in my garden...

It is hard work, no doubt, but oh all so worth it!

"The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command." -   J.R.R. Tolkien,  The Lord of the Rings.  

Of white flowers and thunder...

I may not have hydrangeas like I used to in my southern garden any more, but this high desert garden of mine has its own king of magic, and is been gifting me with masses and masses of glorious pompom beauties otherwise.  

My heart is full with thankfulness and admiration, and I am at peace.

I think of mom every day, and every moment of my life I wish I could return to those days of yesterday and see her dancing again; hear her voice and feel her hands in mines again.  

I was pulling weeds in the garden this afternoon while admiring all the small and wonderful beauties I’m surrounded with… then, from some unknown distance, a rumbling sound of thunder I heard… I run inside looking for shelter, but the downpour, although abundant, was quickly, and my soul wouldn't stay still.  Outside birds were calling; white pompoms kept singing, and my little heart found itself being one with the birds and the glorious whites, and thus, soon I was out there again in the wet garden collecting beauties for the house. 

How long will they last?   I wish I could keep things I love forever; forever dance in the little things, forever be able to understand that those we love and lose are always connected by heartstrings into infinity...

In my solitude I ponder much on the incomprehensible subjects of eternity, life and death, and my garden is always the revelation of it all.  Everything is coming back to life, everything growing rampant and freely.  We were created to have eternal life. Death cannot stop life.  

“It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and do not die, but retire a little from sight and afterwards return again." —Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Work, Determination, Magic!

The end of April… how magical it was!  

And how had everything in the garden fully-fledged and beautified my little world all of a sudden!

Every new morning is a new beginning, an unwrapping of a gift, a new chance, another beautifully freely gifted day… to start anew, to amend errors and opt for love.  And perhaps to find a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning?

And thus, these last few days of April have brought much magic to my little world, the magic I was waiting for—the first quail in the garden, its song a mysterious emphasis on life, and an innate response to its Creator.  I know, oh I know there will more of them coming, and then I will be here, waiting for them beside all of my other little garden friends!

I have worked so much and so hard for months.  Worked in the middle of winter under awful winds and chilly temps, but everything is unfolding as I’ve expected it would, and the garden is marvelously responding in a thousand ways, and it is speaking to me secretly, and it's been gifting gifting!  How marvelous, how very marvelous to see it coming back to an orderly beauty!  No more weeds or unwanted grasses, no despairing shoots and unruly canes.  Roses are growing stronger and bushier by the day, and every little transplant I’d made is making it. I know that angels walk along me as I work and pull weeds, and by my side… oh by my side a Shadow—nay, more.  Even under His wings.

Ah my friends, I do believe in magic, but a dream doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work... I’m getting there!

Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.  Then, you can sit and relax!

Hasta luego!

Spring is in the air

My little world has been painted in fuchsias and pinks, and the ground smells like cherry blossoms.

Mourning doves are serenading the open spaces above my head at all hours of day, and under my feet soft, green grasses.  The trees, the tulips—those first splendid gems of early spring, the sun, the moon, and stars these are the themes of my meditations and morning and evening walks in the garden.  

The lilac tree is bursting in blooms; full, and heavy, with glorious jewels of dark purple and amethysts. 

The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with lilac perfume... Can you see the moon above the blossoms?

How can I describe it?  The scent... the glorious, marvelous scent of the lilacs being carried by winds. It marvels me, this scent... it dulls every other senses and you feel as if the earth is letting itself be inhaled in this simple, lovely perfume of which I can only say it contains so much depth within itself, light and darkness, and something greater than life itself.  

Oh the lilac scent; the ripe earth... 

A black cat among roses, 

garden phlox, lilac-misted under a fainted moon

Things I love... 

I want to fill my house with lilac perfume... oh, I want more… more; masses of them!

I have been working hard too.  All of the outside furniture had been painted. New cushions have been provided, every flowerpot, all the little things, the weather tattered fountains and decorations stained and painted...

...and now I sit and wait for the mocking-bird, the whip-poor-will, the yellow-throat and the humming bird.