Yellow daylily with tiny green grasshopper
Ripening blackberries on the vine
Purple Monarda (Bee Balm)
Morning glory seedlings starting to climb
Cream and dark pink daylily with large grasshopper
Red gladiola
A cluster of pink crinum lilies
Dark and light pink hollyhock through the fence
Pink hollyhock through the fence
Stamen and anthers of the crinum lilies
Ecstasy is what everyone craves —
not love or sex, but hot-blooded, soaring intensity,
in which being alive is a joy and a thrill.
That enravishment doesn’t give meaning to life,
and yet without it life seems meaningless.
~Diane Ackerman
In the name of the daybreak
and the eyelids of morning
and the wayfaring moon
and the night when it departs,
In the name of the sun and its mirrors
and the day that embraces it
and the cloud veils drawn over it
and the uttermost night
and the male and the female
and the plants bursting with seed
and the crowning seasons
of the firefly and the apple,
I will honor all life —
wherever and in whatever form
it may dwell—on Earth my home,
and in the mansions of the stars.
~Excerpted verses from a poem
by Diane Ackerman
Whoever pursues righteousness and love finds life, prosperity, and honor. ~Proverbs 21:21 ✝
**All images (my enravishments) were taken by me in my yard.
Morning is the best of all times in the garden.
The sun is not yet hot, sweet vapors rise from the earth.
Night dew clings to the soil and makes plants glisten.
Birds call to one another. Bees are already at work.
~William Longgood
My garden goes to rest at night.
To wind-sweet lullabies
The flowers fold them in their slim
Green shifts and close their eyes.
Over their nodding heads the Moon
Her tranquil vigil keeps–
Oh, ‘tis a peaceful sight to see
A garden when it sleeps!
When through gray morning mists the sun
Rides splendidly to view,
The flowers flutter drowsy lids
All sweet and wet with dew!
Refreshed by slumber, every one
Its dainty toilet makes–
Oh, ‘tis a lovely thing to see
A garden when it wakes!
~Mazie V. Caruthers
May God give you heaven’s dew and earth’s richness… ~Excerpt from Genesis 27:28 ✝
**Image via Pinterest
My garden is a pleasant place
Of sun glory and leaf grace.
~Excerpted lines from a poem
by Louise Driscoll
What pure delight a garden bring–
What joy in watching growing things
Upspringing from the sodden mould
Their wealth of beauty to unfold–
‘Tis here my spirit soars and sings!
To note the flash of painted wings,
And hark the bees’ soft murmurings
In quest of sweets the blossoms hold;
Where all gray days are days of gold,
Strolling its paths bright wanderings,
What pure delight!
~Louella C. Poole
Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. ~Genesis 2:8 ✝
**All the flower “babies” were blooming in my yard today.
The butterfly long loved the beautiful rose,
And flirted around all day;
While round him in turn with her golden caress,
Soft fluttered the sun’s warm ray…
~Excerpt from a poem by
Heinrich Heine
Butterfly, butterfly, where are you going?
Do you dine today with the regal rose
Or nectar sip with the lilies blowing
In the golden noontide’s sweet repose?
Away, away, on silken pinions,
Gay guest of Flora’s proudest minions.
Or will you pause midst the fragrant clover
And their humbler viands not despise,
While the proud tuberoses wait their lover
And the pansies smile from their velvet eyes?
Away, away, on dainty pinions
Gay guest in Flora’s fair dominions.
~Excerpted verses from a poem by
Martha Lavinia Hoffman
Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. ~Song of Songs 2:12 ✝
**Top image found on Pinterest; edited bottom image found on the Internet
Gardeners are artists,
their brushes a tiny seed,
an ever changing picture emerges from their deed.
~Author Unknown
Watching hands transplanting,
Turning and tamping,
Lifting the young plants with two fingers,
Sifting in a palm-full of fresh loam,–
One swift movement,–
Then plumping in the bunched roots,
A single twist of the thumbs, a tamping and turning,
All in one, quick on the wooden bench,
A shaking down, while the stem stays straight,
Once, twice, and a faint third thump,–
Into the flat-box it goes,
Ready for the long days under the sloped glass:
The sun warming the fine loam,
The young horns winding and unwinding,
Creaking their thin spines,
The underleaves, the smallest buds
Breaking into nakedness,
The blossoms extending
Out into the sweet air,
The whole flower extending outward,
Stretching and reaching.
~Theodore Roethke
So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. ~Colossians 2 ✝
Earth, my dearest, I will.
Oh believe me, you no longer need
your springtimes to win me over –
one of them, ah, even one,
is already too much for my blood.
Unspeakably, I have belonged to you,
from the first.
~Rainer Maria Rilke
The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles. ~Anne Frank
The mystery at the heart of creation is Love. To be in love with the gift of nature is to be well within oneself. ~J. Philip Newell
Grace of the love of the skies be thine,
Grace of the love of the stars be thine,
Grace of the love of the moon be thine,
Grace of the love of the sun be thine.
~Excerpt from the
Carmina Gadelica, an anthology
of poems and prayers from Gaelic oral tradition
The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. ~Psalm 19:1 ✝
**All the images are ones I took in my yard this last week, and I created the collages with the.
I return to my front porch to find
the place where the air smells sweeter and
the sun feels warmer than at any other
bend in life’s long road.
~John Sarris
After the end of a long hot day
At the end of my rope – with nerves all frayed
I sat on the porch…to rest a spell
As the sun slipped…slowly behind the hill.
Calmed…by the lingering…after glow
I watched…the star-speckled night unfold.
Crimson streaks…on a sky of blue
Melted…in a thousand…different hues
That got lost…in the dark…without the light
Leaving…just their shadows…in the darkness.
And in fields…of clover…across the way
The crickets…began…their serenade
As fireflies danced…with sheer delight
Glowing…in love…with the ebony night.
And there…ahead…at the end of the road
Above the bridge…where the river flows
It rose – like magic – before my eyes
An orange moon…so big…it filled the sky.
~Edited poem by Elaine George
You(God) know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. ~Psalm 139:2 ✝
**Images via Pinterest and the internet; collage created by Natalie
It is a glorious privilege
to live, to know, to act, to listen, to behold, to love.
To look up at the blue summer sky;
to see the sun sink slowly beyond the line of the horizon;
to watch the worlds come twinkling into view,
first one by one, and the myriads that no man can count,
and lo! the universe is white with them;
and you and I are here.
~Marco Morrow
Morrow mentions only the summer sky, but isn’t it a privilege to look up and behold the wonders of the heavens whenever given the chance? I certainly think so, and it’s especially breathtaking in the spring when looking up through the branches of flowering trees because the view then is even more spectacular. But then again, I find that staring heavenward, regardless of the season, is always a wondrously delightful pastime. And as I sit looking up, I wonder if, like me, others are filled with the same sense of sanctity? And if so, do the firmament’s mysteries and majestic beauty bring them too to an awareness that something in its mystical vastness transcends ordinary knowing? I would like to think that everyone begins to recognize the handiwork of the Holy One to whom we’re all inextricably and lovingly connected. And as people look and listen, that they may hear, in the deepest part of themselves, God’s still, small voice telling them that the sky and earth and life are not the result of a random happenstance but are acts of His divine and loving grace poured out for mankind. In the sky and all else which delights the senses may we seek the Maker’s face, a face the eyes have forgotten but the heart yet remembers. Indeed, what a glorious privilege it is to live, to know, to act, to listen, to behold, and to love! And how wondrous it is that those privileges are free and available to everyone!
For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made… ~Excerpt from Romans 1:20 ✝
**Collage by Natalie of images she took of flowering trees…
A garden is the mirror of the mind.
It is a place of life, a mystery of green,
moving to the pulse of the year,
and pressing on and pausing the whole
to its own inherent rhythms.
~Henry Beston
After the autumnal equinox passes sometime in late September the days begin to grow shorter and shorter so that light blesses the soil less and less. Soon with each new cold front that blows in temperatures start dropping more and more from the feverish pitch of their summertime highs. Then as the year’s last child draws near its end, the first freeze comes and the garden starts to wither and unravel. Soon afterwards another freeze arrives, harder than the last, and then another until the stage is set for ice or snow or frost to layer the land. With each onslaught winter’s sting strikes deeper and deeper at the remains of the garden. However, after the winter solstice occurs, the process of “pausing the whole” slowly but surely begins to reverse itself so that day by day there’s a little more sunlight and a little more and a little more until somewhere in all of that movement of the sun and the earth and the stars, the divine mystery and its miracles spark children of the soil into being once more. Faithfully in hidden wombs beneath soil or in bark, embryos have been growing and waiting for the elements to create the right catalytic mixture to push tiny tips upward or outward into the light of day. Following the first emergence of new life, earth’s sacred rhythms, which had been faint as we traversed winter’s veil of grief, become louder again until buds, nurtured by water, warmth, and sunlight, grow large and ripe enough to come into their time of blossoming. So it is that the “pausing” at last comes to an end, and spring’s first comers to press upward, outward and onward burgeoning into flowers and the “mystery of green” that’s a garden. And then in the mirror of my mind I can see clearly the countenance in the Face of all faces because as Robert Brault says, “As a gardener, I’m among those who believe that much of the evidence of God’s existence has been planted.”
Faithfulness springs forth from the earth, and righteousness looks down from heaven. ~Psalm 85:11 ✝
Sacred Touches 