The Garden

I sit listening to Bach flute sonatas as the sun kisses the garden wall. It is late afternoon and the day is getting ready for the evening. How precious and reflective this time of day can be. The children are playing in the garden. Their voices are exuberant and clear in their expression of joy. How they have adapted their energy and play to this small garden. They bob and weave around the flowerbeds so carefully, ever conscious of preserving the essence of the space.

Earlier today the dogs had their time. Big dogs in a small garden and it worked, precisely because of the care and attention of their owners. The balls always tossed to areas free of plants; the hidden treasures of the hunt placed specifically so no flowers would be disturbed and yet the adventures of the hunt well maintained.

The thoughtfulness of these people is commendable. The caring they have for this small piece of land is remarkable. This land that is partially covered in old broken tiles but also beautifully engaged with life blooming in courageous glory amidst the children and dogs.

Twenty years ago this country was engaged in a brutal war and now a garden blooms among the remnants. Think of how the world could be if we all took care of our small and large pieces of land the way these wonderful people treasure their garden.