Heaven on Earth

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth.
One is nearer to God in a garden
Than any place else on earth.

Dorothy Francis Gurney

The above is an exert from a poem by Dorothy Francis Gurney; I used to have a wooden plaque hanging in my garden with that verse on it.

Through the worst times of my life I have found comfort in my garden. When JC and I were at the resort I spent hours tending my garden, crying, praying for answers, praying for strength, praying for my son and my brother, praying to be given one more chance to save my boy, praying for serenity, and sometimes cursing God for giving me too much to handle.

I always came away from my garden feeling calmer, stronger; it was my refuge. It has been for most of my life. When I lived at the lake before I even met JC I would be out there with a flashlight and a glass of wine tending my garden. It seemed the harder the time I was going through the more beautiful my gardens were. Every year I dug up more sod for more flowers. The little English lady that lived across the street and could barely walk made her way across the road slowly with her walker and came up to where I was pulling weeds and she said, ” I want to thank you for your lovely gardens. I look out my window and your gardens take me back to my childhood and the lovely English gardens. You have a loving touch; I’ve watched you. I just wanted you to know you have given this old lady much pleasure with your gardens.” and she shuffled back to her house. I’ll never forget it and of course I cried.

When we were at the resort I couldn’t afford plants but all the neighbour brought over plants and bulbs as they thinned out their gardens, one brought over a filing box with tons of different seeds for me to pick from. It was a tough year emotionally, like I said, I did alot of praying. It was the most beautiful garden I’ve ever had.

Gardening is so community minded, it brings people together, gives them something to talk about. A person can be talking by and feel free to say, “Your garden is lovely”. Or gardeners are always so willing to share plants, advice, and ask questions. Somehow a garden removes fences, class distinction, age, and even gender, gardeners are all on the same team.

I missed my gardens this year, I planted gardens last year and got compliments but I didn’t take the time to enjoy them because I was on borrowed time there and was trying to work as much as possible. This year I did plant some, but lack of water took its toll.

I pray that someday I have a tiny place, nothing fancy, I’m easy to please. 400 sq ft would do me just fine, with a fireplace (there is nothing like coming home from a long walk on a brisk fall day and the house is toasty warm from a crackling fire) There are few things more rewarding than getting up in the morning to a cold house and finding a few red embers still in the wood stove because all that’s necessary is to pull ghetto damper and throw on a few dry pieces of wood and in minutes the house is warm again.
I want a kitchen big enough that I can cook a pot of soup or chilli or maybe a pot roast and have a few friends over to share my fire and a bottle of wine.  lots of windows to let the sun shine in and hang crystals in. And a covered porch to hang wind chimes and a wooden rocking chair so I can sit out there even when it rains. One wall of book shelves for all those books I keep moving with me and some day want to read, but they look good until then. 🙂 I love books.

A place I can paint. A freezer I can fill with baking at Christmas and maybe even some cabbage rolls and tourtierre. A bath tub I can fill with bubble bath and keep adding hot water to until I am pink and wrinkly.

And a tiny yard trimmed with gardens.

And never have to move; just grow old there, Grandma’s house. Where my son and grand daughter can come to visit and know there are cookies in the cookie jar and my son will go to the freezer and grab some frozen cookies and I can give him shit for eating them before Christmas.

That is what I pray for. Not much, nothing fancy; not a knight in shining armor to save me, no trips around the world. Just a little bit of heaven on earth. The sun for pardon, the bbirds song for mirth.

What for you pray for?

7 thoughts on “Heaven on Earth

  1. The Heretic

    I remember my grandfather had two gardens when I was younger. He had one in the front of his house with two or three different types of roses, and in the backyard he would grow vegetables. My mom used to have a rose garden as well before we lost the house.

    I guess for me writing and recording music is my garden, especially if people end up liking the music, depending on which of my music they like.


    1. ladywithatruck Post author

      Michael, thank you for feeling my ramblings are worthy of a blog!
      Yes I can see your music being your garden; what a great analogy. I love to plant seeds and watch for them to break through the soil, nurture it as it grows and then I’m always amazed how a beautiful big plant can start from a tiny little seed. You write music much the same way I’d imagine, and then others enjoy your labour of love.

      My grandma always had a vegetable garden, and fruit raspberries, strawberries, plums, apples, pears, cherries and flowers that came back every year. I always plant For-Get-Me-Nots because my Grandma always had them. There is nothing better than potatoes, carrots and green beans fresh from the garden.


    1. Carrie

      Tik!!!! Good to see you! I know you’ve been busy. I may not comment but I do read your posts. (I can read them without snap internet connection because they come in as an email but if I want to “like” or comment I need the net).
      Good luck selling your house, have you talked to the lady who took your chickens? Are they all ok?

      Hope all is well with you.
      Thanks for stopping by”


      1. TikkTok

        I’ve had huge issues with logging in and commenting on blogs. Don’t know if it’s an IE issue or what that’s being a pain, but it’s another point of frustration.

        I have not talked to the lady who took our chickens, but she assured us she doesn’t eat them, either, and I know she rescues others. I feel really good about where they are, so I know she’s taking good care of them.

        No feedback on the house, although it did get shown once last week. This kind of waiting and uncertainty drives me crazy. *sigh*



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