A few days ago I spent an hour or two exploring the Savannah Botanical Gardens. I was quite surprised to see how much was still in bloom in the garden, ignorantly assuming that my fall and winter climates would look similar no matter where I live. The muted gray and brown tones of fall and early winter I’ve grown up with in western NY have not overtaken the scenery here. Pansies and roses were still in bloom along side small trees displaying glowing golden leaves, hesitantly turning to shades of amber and crimson.
In compliment with my time at the garden, I’ve recently been re-reading a childhood favorite book- The Secret Garden by Frances Hogdson Burnett. The story revolves around Mary Maddox’s experience growing up in her Uncle’s home, Misselthwaite Manor in England, after being recently orphaned. She spends her time at the Manor getting lost in a garden she finds and claims as her own. Mary and her friends care for the abandoned garden, planting and pruning, bringing new life and watching the garden grow before their eyes.
It’s been refreshing to read a story so pure, focusing on childhood and the beauty of the earth, exploring and learning, reminding me of the richness of simplicity and how awe-inspiring our environment is.
in the time of daffodils (who know
in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how
in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)
in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes
in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)
and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me