My friend Amy of Haunted Hillsdale ( wrote a blog entry today. She’s very good about writing nearly everyday and always has something interesting to say. It’s May 15, 2008 and she talked about gardening. I had the following experience in the morning and after reading her blog, I was inspired to tell her about it.


That’s weird! Today I was thinking about installing a windowbox. Are you swimming in my head???? Dang!

So I’ve been struggling with some awkward and unsettling feelings this week (is that you tickling my brain folds again, Amy?) so this morning I stopped to take the time for the garden.

The air was hot and I knew that it would be another 97+ degree day again.

I gently watered the heirloom tomatoes and the platinum white corn (BTW I meant to write my condolences about you and “corn”) and ended up watering the lawn, the red trumpets, lilies, calla lilies, gladiolas, jades, aloe vera, blackberries, and an assortment of weeds that I have yet to exterminate. I didn’t notice it at first. It came on very slowly, imperceptibly. As I started to realize that these moments were my meditation, a joy began to bud.

I finished the backyard but was faced with the decision… do I stop there? Or do I go on to the front yard. I wasn’t sure. My brain said, Oh you’re done. But I didn’t stop. I let myself go to the front yard and turn on the hose.

I started with my roses – the show stoppers with thousands of buds poised to open – then moved on the asian lilies and what’s left of the iris’ and daffodils. I turned the hose to the lawn and squeezed my thumb over the nib. The fine spray filled the air and within a couple of minutes three butterflies fluttered into the mist, dancing there for the longest time. My heart was leaping, my joy bloomed. I threw my arm up in the air, still holding the hose as a mister, and lifted my face to the cooling spray that wafted onto my skin. “This is what I want.”

Amy. Go into your garden.