sunday grace: the garden and preparing for glory

yesterday was the first perfect day of spring in virginia:  sunny, clear, clean (lots of rain earlier in the week), and a beautiful seventy degrees.  we spent the day preparing the front and back yards at gypsy hill so that they can achieve their maximum glory in the months ahead.  the work was quite unglamorous in the sense that it involved more shovels and fertilizer and wheel barrels and trash bins than flowers and lemonade.

i couldn't help but think about the work as a metaphor for life, soul, and embodiment right now:

• where are the spots that require more digging?
• how is the ground?  is it packed and settled so tight that it supports, but is bereft of nutrition and aeration?
• what areas need extra nourishment?  which balance of nutritional components is optimal for current conditions?
• what are components that may require thinning, pruning, transplanting?  how will they thrive under different circumstances?  more light needed here?  more shade and shelter for this?
• what needs to be respectfully moved to the compost bin?  how did it once add to the beauty and meaning here?
• who are the people who show up to do the hard, down and dirty work with you?

i'm reminded of a poem i first read in my adolescence.  it's totally corny but i still love it so much. upon reading these words at age eleven or twelve, i began to discover my first real sense of personal power and agency in the world.  

comes the dawn

after a while you learn the subtle difference

between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

and company doesn't mean security.

and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

and presents aren't promises.

and you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes open

with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

and you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans.

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

after a while you learn

that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

and you learn that you really can endure,

that you really are strong

and you really do have worth.

and you learn and learn,

with every goodbye you learn.

-veronica shoffstall

plant your own garden, actual and metaphorical.
happy sunday junebugs.