Just a chatty post on a Monday Morning

Because of the popularity of the flower arrangments we sold along with our vegetables and syrup at the Farmer’s Market the last two years, I decided this year to put in a cutting garden of flowers specifically to sell: dahlias, sunflowers, snapdragons, and zinnias. Last year’s zinnias towered 8-9 feet in the former chicken yard rich with, well, you know. The word is used so disparagingly in common speech!

Liz Graves is visiting. She was a student at Vassar when I was a chaplain there. She helped me plant the cutting garden. (And she finished the floors and floorboards and painted the closet in the guestroom at St. Aidan’s.) As she helped in the garden she sang a Susan Werner song which included this verse:

We’ll skip ‘cross the grass in our tender bare feet
With the blades clinging on to our ankles
And the crickets will sing us the Latin high mass
As we come to the altar of flowers
And the snapdragons narrow and tall
And the zinneas the brightest of all
And the peonies came from great-grandmother’s farm
And someday we’ll grow them at my house.

Because I’ll be away next week I’m rushing to get the gardens around the chapel (the cross garden, the Mary garden, the kitchen garden, the shade garden against St. Cuthbert’s, and the decorative potted plants on the patio established, pretty, and ready to be ignored for a week and enjoyable for the non-stop guests expected from the end of May into the fall.

It’s gorgeous and golden outside! My desk stacked with paper and my inbox black with urgent email, I feel like the kid having to stay inside and practice the violin while his mates play baseball in the sunshine outside the window. But I intend to get out into the garden and into the dirt today. Well, I have to anyway. Pace myself. Balance paper and dirt and keyboard strokes. Oh, you should hear the songbirds from the woods behind St. Aidan’s. I want to lie down on the grass and dream. Of course I won’t. But I’ll try to slow down enough to listen.

What an extraordinary life!

Soil and words. 
Add time.
A yeild of flowers and ideas.

Such beauty! I’m so grateful. Amen.

2 Responses to “Just a chatty post on a Monday Morning”

  1. A Deacon's Wife Says:

    I can’t think of a better place to visit with an old friend than in the garden. Or to sing, for that matter. Hope you get everything accomplished, including a little dream in the grass!

  2. claire Says:

    What an extraordinary life, indeed! Thank you for sharing it with us.

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