The Life of a Garden..The Life of a Believer

The garden in Autumn was not much more than an imagination. The ground was made fallow and the compost was added and dried bulbs were put in shallow graves and covered with dirt. Only in the mind of the gardener was there anything of beauty. What was seen by others was a rotting, decaying compost. The death that would bring life lay quiet and cold for the long winter.
The garden in March was that of the stirring in the earth.Delighting with the first warmth from the early Spring sun the first bold daffodils raised their heads to sing. Their new life exciting and vibrant and calling to it's friends who are still burried in death. The daffodil heralds the message that there is more..more..there is life in death. The zeal of the daffodil calls the others to dance her dance. To take their rightful place in the garden dance.To rise up from their tombs and dance.That was the heart of the Gardener for them.
The garden in April sings with color of laughter.Bobbing and bowing to the rhythm of the April showers.
With May comes the more delicate of hues and the garden fills in to a fuller mature landscape. Each blossom unique in it's own right but complementing and encouraging it's friends to sing now in a more perfect harmony holding each other up straight and strong.
In June when the temperatures climb some colors fade..a bit..but the beauty is still sweet.Some of the dancers fade away..
In July..the weeds sneak in first on one side..then the other..encroaching here and there until they think that this is this place was created for them. The flowers helpless to defend themselves without the Hand of the Gardener.
August the sun and the heat and weeds try to choke out the beauty and that which was a delight is now a blight. Dried vines and mildewed stems. The flowers surrender to the hand of the Gardener. The pruning painful but necessary.Unable to care for itself she accepts that which was bringing death needs to be removed.
In Sept when the heat subsides the blossoms rally for a last sweet dance. Not the same one as they danced in Spring. Not loud and bold. No, not loud, but clear. Ready for the offer the seeds of her life for her love for the future generation that they may dance...
And the Gardener fallows the ground.