I come to the garden...

Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.          ~May Sarton 

Today, around midday, I found myself questioning why on earth I wanted to garden anyway. Lanny and I had worked on mulching the flower beds, and with two days work under our belts a couple weeks ago, we had only succeeded in mulching about half of our beds. Today seemed like a good day to continue the process. Lanny headed out to the mulch place with his trailer, and brought back a load of black mulch. I had spent some time last week killing weeds in the remaining beds, so they were ready to go. We spent hours in the hot sun, digging and shoveling and raking this stinky stuff. We quit working around 3:30 pm, unable to handle the heat, the humidity, the bugs that seem to show up when you get sweaty, and our aching joints and muscles. There is still a lot to go, but what we got done looked good. We were just too tired, hot and grouchy to realize it...

Fast forward to this evening. With a shower, a nap, dinner, and a handful of pharmaceuticals under my belt, I decided to head out to the deck to enjoy the evening. It had cooled down since the sun was low on the horizon. There was a gentle warm breeze. The creek, full from the rain storms of yesterday, could be heard rushing over the rocks as it raced on south to join the White River. Birds were grabbing a last meal at the feeder and chirping their approval to one another. There was a dog barking in the distance, the sound of a mower and a chain saw working away the last few moments of daylight. Momentarily Lanny joined me and we enjoyed the last few rays of sunlight together.

That was when I could relax, and look around the yard. And appreciate again the fruits of our labors. I found myself humming an old hymn, and thinking of my grandmother Ruth, who loved it and used to sing it to me when I was a kid. I could hear her alto voice-- and I smiled.

I Come To The Garden 

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.

Refrain:
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.


He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

Refrain


I’d stay in the garden with Him
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.

Refrain