Welcome to our Garden …
On the eve of what may be the hottest and most humid weekend of the summer we thought to invite our friends to a “virtual open day”. Welcome all …
Five years ago this was a suburban garden with a lawn. Plenty of shrubs and native plants around the edges in beds but the middle was a boring monoculture of grass. Now it’s a glorious, eclectic collection of mostly native flowers and herbs that pretty much looks after itself other than ten minutes spent once a month mowing a couple of paths through it. It doesn’t need watering either.
Birds and bees and butterflies live here and sing their hearts out on summer days. Good for the soul.
There’s not a pair of legs so thin, there’s not a head so thick,
There’s not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick
But it can find some needful job that’s crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.
Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,
If it’s only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
You will find yourself a partner In the Glory of the Garden.
Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees
That half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees,
So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray
For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away!
The garden work you Gregsons do and tell is a wonder. It deserves the best in ordinary gratitude. (So thanks.)
For all the anti-imperialist vilification heaped on Rudyard Kipling in the last half of the 20th C, he is himself anti-colonial the way he uplifts lively particulars around the world in commonplace rhymes and working realities.
Glad you’re up to what you’re up to.
Thank you, Tim …