The most beautiful —

Every day, several times a day, I look at the place where I live and know that it is, without doubt, absolutely the most beautiful place on Earth. Our gardens are the lushest, our flowers the loveliest, the animals and birds the most amazing, the air the freshest, the water the tastiest (and healthiest) …

Now, I know some of you out there may be feeling the same way about your own digs, and you know what? We are both right.

This is true for every one of us, and I finally figured out why.  When a child is born, its parents are convinced that it is the most precious, perfect, beautiful creature ever to arrive. They have spent untold days (or weeks or months or years) dreaming about and planning for this child. Then there was that nine-month period where every change in mom’s body was noted with wonder and excitement (well maybe not so much that morning sickness part) — every flutter of the growing child a miracle, every kick of the nearly completed infant a joy to mom and dad (and probably a few other good friends and family as well).

Some folks talk and sing and play music to this emerging life. The wee one hears those voices and the bonding between parent and child is strengthened every day.  When this new being arrives, hormones seal up those pre-birth connections with a strength that can never be broken.

Gardens are very much the same. Days and weeks and months of planning and seed planting precede the appearance of fragile little sprouts, which need to be fed and kept warm and get just enough—not too much and not too little—light, and the right amount and kind of nutrition.

They must be “hardened off” (just as a human child is trained to live in a world that is filled with wonders but that is also dangerous), and then finally placed in carefully prepared soil. Each plant is checked on daily, and should it need water or shade or shoring up, it gets it right away.

Seemingly ages after each being was first thought of, the plant prepares for its own next generation. Flowers show us where seeds (a tasty pea pod, or a lovely flower, the little nubbin of a pepper) have their beginning.

Our gardens are indeed the perfect gardens—for us. We imagined them, we planned them, we prepared for them, we planted them, we nurtured them.  Something akin hormones seals the bond between land and human.  I know of nothing that can break this connection.

Just as generations of human families carry forward their own expression of Life , our gardens develop and change and  surprise us, life after beautiful life.

Our gardens are the most beautiful, precious, wonderous places.  And so are yours. And yours, and yours and yours.

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