A Garden Beckons…

Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade. — Rudyard Kipling

The last two weeks I can hear my garden whispering, “Come out, come out, it’s time…”

A Garden Beckons...

The earth is starting to warm and I am famished to feel it between my fingers. All the fruit trees are full of buds, and blossoms are about to burst into their glorious scents, and colors. The Weeds have their usual head start. (heavy sigh!) But I will not be deterred by flippant smirks; I shall prevail, yet again!

A Garden Beckons...
A garden beckons…

Therefore, my dearest ones, it’s time to be shifting gears a bit.

During dark and wintry days I have been blogging here on Mondays and Fridays, but as I said, “A garden beckons, so I must go…”

To-day I think
Only with scents, – scents dead leaves yield,
And bracken, and wild carrot’s seed,
And the square mustard field;

A Garden Beckons...

Odours that rise
When the spade wounds the root of tree,
Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,
Rhubarb or celery;

The smoke’s smell, too,
Flowing from where a bonfire burns
The dead, the waste, the dangerous,
And all to sweetness turns.

It is enough
To smell, to crumble the dark earth,
While the robin sings over again
Sad songs of Autumn mirth.”

– A poem called DIGGING.
― Edward Thomas, Collected Poems

Beginning next week…
A Garden Beckons...

Women With Destiny will publish on Mondays only.

(The rest of the week?)

You shall find me out among Spring flowers!



A Garden Beckons...


For the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.  The flowers are springing up and the time of the singing of birds has come. Yes, spring is here.

Song of Songs 2: 11-12 TLB