There is a place that could be aptly named “Garden of Eden” but in actuality is really “garden of friend”: a friend who comprehends the healing, nourishing properties of nature’s proximity. It is a place that intersects between heaven and earth, a place that invites thought and introspection. It is a “homing” place to birdlife, wildlife, plant life, quietude … it is the place I call my “sanctuary.”
“It is among the coneflowers, the coreopsis, the asters, the periwinkle, columbine, daylilies, lupine, that my pen is inspired to write the words, the poem that dwells in the deepest folds of my soul,” Sandy Duross writes. Photo courtesy of Sandy Duross
For it is among the floral scents, the birdsong, the serenity, that I discover the essence of my being, that I become one with Universe, that my soul sings the melody that life beholds. It is among the rock formations, the granite boulders, the man-made stepping-stones and rock walls that my spirit climbs, ascends to heights previously unknown.
It is a place where time, where breath, where step slows, where song sings on the breath of trees, where oak, where maple, where pine complement each other, provide breeze and canopy as needed. It is among the coneflowers, the coreopsis, the asters, the periwinkle, columbine, daylilies, lupine, that my pen is inspired to write the words, the poem that dwells in the deepest folds of my soul … the ode simply titled “Sanctuary.”
“There is a place where you become one with nature/one with the intrinsic being of your soul/a place where lone is not alone/but a figment of a unified whole/ a place where seed thought/like flower, develops, blossoms/ becomes more.”
Oh yes, there is a place I call “garden of friend” that belies, defies a world pandemic; that provides respite from its stresses and woes. It is a place where plants free-form dance, where shrubs hug and thrive, where a hummingbird’s hum is nature’s lullaby. It is a place where wind chimes climb or descend an octave or two or more, say welcome and inquire how-do-you-do; where peace and tranquility intertwine like nearby climbing roses or vine.
And when comes time for sunrise, for garden to waken, pry open its nature-imbued eyes, is when “alive” becomes an understatement, is when dawn dawns on an awe-struck humankind. As day develops, as flowers are sun-teased open, they invite pollinators to pollinate, to spread their glory; just as I invite their inspiration to feed and pollinate the words that flow from my pen … to know growth and return in kind.
And so it goes … life in “garden of friend” not unlike the garden of Eden, where life and spirit blossom as one.
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