Grandmother's Garden

    Although winter's cold has set in here in Northern Virginia, the weather over the Thanksgiving holiday was kind enough to get us out walking. Besides the great meals that Jim orchestrated over our four days together (subs, pizza, turkey, fajitas), a major highlight was watching Mary (9) and Claire (7) walking the dogs Luna and Allie on our many-mile-long family walks.  We are very thankful to have had everyone here for such quality family time, and now we are napping!

Today's post is a poem I wrote twenty years ago for my sister, Beth. She is not only a master gardener but also a very wise person. I'm dedicating this poem to her with love. This year, she turns 80! 

Grandmother’s Garden

Under a hedge in grandmother’s garden,

a pill bug lost her footing and rolled into a ball.

The cricket who’d been singing looked around in worry.

It was late in the evening, and the season was Fall.

Cold air chilled the nighttime, and the winds were blowing.

Branches from an oak tree rattled like bones.

Birds that were nesting in the depths of a thicket

cuddled even closer in their deep hedge home.

Snow started falling, covering up the garden. 

Bushes looked like skeletons marching in the knoll.

Crashes from the forest roared a mighty thunder.

Terror spread like wildfire, shaking each and every soul.

The lights from Grandma's window glow a quiet welcome,

offering safety from the dangers that threaten everywhere.

Quick as you can, make your way there, 

hoping in your heart you will find her there.

Inside Grandma's house, a blazing fire offers

all who visit her a respite from the cold.

A chicken in the oven and a plate of cookies; 

comfort is the keyword, and she treats you like gold.

“Yes,” whispers Grandma, “I can see you are frightened, 

but gather near, I've got a little story for you 

about a great adventure and a hidden treasure, 

and if you listen very carefully, you will hear a clue.

Come to the corner; let us sit for a minute.

Let's listen to the ticking of the ticking clock.

Now look outside the window and into my garden;

I want to tell the story of that great big rock.

In the beginning and now in the middle, 

and throughout all of time until the very end, 

from the East and the West, from the North and the South 

every single rock has a message to send."

“But grandma,” laughed the children, rocks aren't made for talking!”

And Grandma smiled a little and looked into the yard.

“No, you are right, but to me, they are saying 

that there are times in every life when things are very hard.

And these are the moments in every person's journey 

(when dangers threaten and shake us to the core)

that secrets abound; they whisper we must listen

and see that we've been called to a place called Evermore."

“Where's that?” cried the children, “have you ever been there?

Next summer, can we go there? And will you come too?”

Then they got real quiet, and they sat there wondering

if where within the story they might find the clue.

“Now here, let me hug you; there's no need to worry.

While we wait for summer, there are things to be done.

Let’s make some sweet bread, drizzle on frosting,

and then I’ll make some tea for our cinnamon buns.”

Grandma hugged us tight and said, “Life can be frightening.

We sometimes want to run in fear and hide inside a shell.

Winter's dark is scary, but the secret is trusting

that after cold, the warmth will come, and all will be well.

Come spring, when we walk outside in my garden,

everywhere we look, we'll see life springing from the earth.

We’ll find hope in the flowers, and the tree's bare branches

sprout tiny buds, reminding us of life's rebirth."

Under a hedge in grandmother's garden, 

the rolling pill bug stretched and sighed, then stood up nearly tall.

The crickets started chirping happily through the thicket,

then joined the birds in singing out this joyous call:

Let’s shout praises for Grandmother's wisdom!

The lights of loving kindness are the seeds she has sown.

The world's a better place because she walks among us.

Such goodness, warmth, and wisdom the world has never known

Let us run and sing and shout hooray! 

O lee! O la!  O Happy Day!

2005

O lee! O la!