Second Whisper: No two gardens are the same. No two days are the same in one garden
Although, the empty green patch was what called me home, I was impatient with the progress of the garden. Now, that I had a brief taste of what a life with colours felt like, I wanted more of it.
I would greedily eye the lush green tropical foliage in the neighbouring community. Not only was the grass greener on the other side of the road (at least in my mind), it was resplendent with flowers of all shades and hues. I was particularly taken in with the yellow trumpet trees that stood guard in their gold-tasselled uniforms at the gates of each home. So, I brought home a little green sapling, hopeful that very soon the skies would be yellow on this side of the road too.
The little green sapling grew into a strapping green tree in no time, but to my dismay, there was not a hint of yellow. I would stare at the tree with a look of disappointment and disapproval as if my parental criticism would urge it on.
Until one day, I slowed down and let myself tune into what the tree was saying. That’s when I realized that in my quest for a picture, prefect garden, I was not letting the tree grow into spaces where it could be nourished by the sun.
Once I let the tree grow out of its proverbial square box, it was blooming with wild abandon.
Soon enough, the skies were painted in a shade of gold than matched the sun.
On days when I feel constricted by my own or the world’s ideas of who or how I should be, I can hear the garden hum:
“Give yourself permission to take up space, and bloom wildly without regret”
Third Whisper: Trust the Circle of Life
The first time a spotted dove made a nest in the yellow trumpet tree (the same tree that needed space to bloom), I was ecstatic. It gave me great joy to know that my little patch of green was now a sanctuary for fellow earth being to bring forth her brood. It felt like a sign that this brick and mortar structure was finally turning into a home
I would sneak peeks at the mother dove roosting in the nest through the curtains, sitting there all majestic and calm. And, wonder if the garden spoke to her too, giving her advice and encouragement. Or, if they conversed in an unspoken language as she was now one with the garden and garden was her.
One morning as I sipped my morning cup of tea, I was greeted with a sound that was different from the familiar music that the breeze made with the wind chimes. It sounded like tweets, which were coming from cute furry balls that were rolling round in the nest. I had visions of watching them grow and little doves flying away from the coop soon as beautiful young birds.
Until one morning I couldn’t hear the tweets anymore and the nest was missing.
One of the resident cats in the community had managed to claw up the tree and the dovelets had met a tragic end at a very young age. My heart was heavy for the next few days and I could hear the mama bird’s mourning cries, even in my sleep.
A few weeks later, as I started to head out, I noticed balls of fur snuggled into each other. One of the resident cats had given birth to a litter of kittens and left them there on my porch.
A jumble of entangled paws and ears full of innocence. A wooly blanket that spoke of love and warmth.
As I soaked in the gift of cuteness, I could hear the garden singing:
“In the circle of life, we are all connected, hunter and prey, birth and death.
The circle of life moves us all through despair and hope, until we find our place...”
To be continued…
This is the second post in the Whispers from the Garden series.
