I have been busy developing my new garden. Well, it’s not ‘new’, exactly. The ground has been here for as long as the earth itself, created by the Word at the beginning of time. The little piece fenced off delineating ‘my’ garden has been here for a couple of decades but it was sadly neglected over time and was struggling.
When I bought my little home – this tiny piece of land became known as ‘mine’. And I have put more work into it than I have ever put into a garden before. It is my responsibility and, I discover, my joy to make this little garden beautiful. For me, for my neighbours – but mainly for God.
So I, with the help of others, have worked hard, drawing up plans (me, with the help of others), moving stones (others!) and having fun. We are still moving stones around and the latest project was to build a bird bath outside my study window.
I have written before about the kilos of gravel I needed and the stones that have been laid out for me. I have had the furniture sanded and repaired and varnished. I have planted my tree.
But looking out of my study as I work, It was all stone and wood. Sure, there are a few plants along the fence that will grow, but at the moment they are tiny. It struck me as being rather stark. And I need life and growth and joy to inspire me to write.
So I went outside and stood and looked at what we had made. It was good. It was attractive. But it was all brown – stones, gravel, wood. All brown. What would change that?
I wandered around the garden, looking for inspiration.
And there it was! A spikey grass with developing seed heads as the summer begins to draw into autumn.
We move it. Dug it up carefully and placed it strategically slightly to one side of the bird bath. It looked good.
Yesterday it was hot. 39C. I glanced up from my computer. On the edge of the birdbath was a dove, drinking. I could see her throat working as she swallowed the cool water. In the tree were three small weavers, waiting for a turn to drink. Another dove paced on the road, also waiting. And there, on the new, spikey grass was a male weaver, still glorious in his breeding colours, nibbling away at the seed.
A swim, a drink, and a snack all in one place. What more could they want? So they came in their numbers. And suddenly there is colour. Suddenly there is life.