“Patience, grasshopper,” said Maia. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“I always thought that was ‘Good things come to those who do the wave,'” said Simon. “No wonder I’ve been so confused all my life.”
There is nothing more calming than watching colours burst through the earth, children kicking ball in the backyard and the barks of rambunctious pets joining in the midst. To note this event happening in own backyard is a thought pleasing to the mind and soul. Gardens have always been a part of my childhood. From the photographs of the toothless days in the lawn to the high school practice and science projects in the backyard, the backdrop for all the best friends meet and above all, the place to regain the spirit when one feels that things are in a downhill. Of all those memories, it is the latter that are most heartening. Little wonder why then, wanting my own splay of colours and green foliage was an immediate after settling in our new quarters.
“The two hardest tests on the spiritual road are the patience to wait for the right moment and the courage not to be disappointed with what we encounter.” Paulo Coelho
Growing a garden from scratch is a test of patience, fortitude and hope. Juggling between settling in my new job, house and managing the chores along with starting off a brand new garden from few flowerpots along the gate involved quite a bit of work. As my target was primarily a flower garden, the lawn had to be squared off, followed by purchase of a few flowerpots and a couple of half-grown plants to get them to bloom for the summer. Then was to get the right packet of seeds, right compost mix and yes, to make sure the birds or insects didn’t get the seeds first. It took time. The bare network of the garden I had envisioned wasn’t ready until the next summer.
“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” Aristotle
With spring in the air, watching the new shoots coming up through the ground, it gives an immense sense of satisfaction and hope that this summer would see another riot of colours, better than the year before. Like the garden, our lives too have plenty of shoots often read as hidden opportunities and the risks to be taken.
Whether the latter were right or wrong, only time and hindsight would tell us. But to bear fruit, the benefits don’t come in a sequence. Like the seeds breaking into flowers, each chance of life may bear it’s beauty much later. The secret is to be prepared, of patient bearing, eagerness to labour and the realistic hope that things will get better eventually. As the garden teaches us, for every leaf that falls; new life is getting readied for the next season.
HERE in a quiet and dusty room they lie,
Faded as crumbled stone and shifting sand,
Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry –
Meadows and gardens running through my hand.
Dead that shall quicken at the voice of spring,
Sleepers to wake beneath June’s tempest kiss;
Though birds pass over, unremembering,
And no bee find here roses that were his.
In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams;
A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust
That shall drink deeply at a century’s streams;
These lilies shall make summer on my dust.
Here in their safe and simple house of death,
Sealed in their shells, a million roses leap;
Here I can stir a garden with my breath,
And in my hand a forest lies asleep.