From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years.
Rabindranath Tagore*
*From "The Gardener 85." Complete poem at Poetry Foundation.
2 comments:
I can't claim any credit for the dogwood, which was here when we got here. And it seems to have a much deeper shade of pink this year.
Well, I think you deserve credit for the dogwood--you kept it alive through the droughts.
Post a Comment