A Bit of Earth

If you were to look at me right now you’d see my grass-stained jeans, messy hair, and dirty fingernails; and if you were to smell my hands you’d get whiffs of mint, garlic, and chives. I couldn’t sleep well last night, so I got up early (for me on a Saturday) and gardened outside on this cool, cloudy morning.

It feels good to work in dirt, to smell the earth . . . (because “There’s naught as nice as th’ smell o’ good clean earth, except th’ smell o’ fresh growin’ things when th’ rain falls on ’em”), it’s also nice to touch the earthworms, and water the growing flowers. Gardening, especially when I’m alone, gives me good time to think, and I enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot for me to think about these days.

Mornings outside in the garden like this remind me of The Secret Garden, which has always been a favorite story of mine. Here are some more quotes from the beautiful story of healing, friendship, and discovery. Enjoy them. I’m drinking a mug of coffee with cream stirred in as I find these, and it’s simply a delightful way to spend a Saturday morning.

“’Might I,’ quavered Mary, ‘might I have a bit of earth?’”

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”

“One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands out and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun–which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with the millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in someone’s eyes.”

“It made her think that it was curious how much nicer a person looked when he smiled. She had not thought of it before.”

“She made herself stronger by fighting with the wind.”

“And they both began to laugh over nothing as children will when they are happy together. And they laughed so that in the end they were making as much noise as if they had been two ordinary healthy natural ten-year-old creatures—instead of a hard, little, unloving girl and a sickly boy who believed that he was going to die.”

“And the secret garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles.”

“As she came closer to him she noticed that there was a clean fresh scent of heather and grass and leaves about him, almost as if he were made of them. She liked it very much and when she looked into his funny face with the red cheeks and round blue eyes she forgot that she had felt shy.” . . . ah, my first literary crush. I still love Dickon.

Well, a few more hours of office work today, making lunch, then it’s off to a baby shower for my sister, and church this evening.

Have a delightful day my readers!

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