Work in Your Garden? I Never Work in My Garden.

Another classic permutation, below, of classic/historic Garden Design's most popular & effective Color Trinity: Green, Brown & White, subsidiary color, blue.


Pic, above, here.
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Search thru years of postings about my Garden nattering, you won't find how-to-mow, how-to-prune, & etc.  Why does Garden Design receive that curse from the majority of its writers, at all layers?  Interior blogs, magazines, books do not show pretty interior pictures, then describe how to vacuum a sofa, spot clean a wool rug, remove spider webs from outdoor ceiling fan blades, you catch my drift.  Why curse the Garden with that mundane minutia, to the, almost, exclusion of the way to have a beautiful Garden?

 
Pic, above, here.
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This topic, having a beautiful garden, in my heart since birth.  A primal drive.  Not knowing I was a garden whisperer until my 20's.  How did I learn?  Realizing other people don't speak of trees, bushes, meadows, yards, flowers, birds, insects, seasons, in any depth, depths I've known since, again, birth.  Alas, years of being a Garden Whisperer, without a language for speaking it.
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Wish I could say I've knocked it out of the ball park knowing/sharing the full Garden Whisperer language.  I try to in my posts. 
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Gardens, beautiful classic historic Gardens, are in the realm of Nature, and the realm of the unspeakable.  Grace, joy, peace, in their depths, are experienced actions, no words can describe. 

 
Pic, above, here.
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Into my 40's, a sweet gardening epiphany arrived.  Creating & taking care of my own garden is pure washing-of-the-servants-feet.  Not a chore, not a to-do list, not something to get accomplished, not accomplished only because of homeowners association rules.  Collaterally I've been searching for the correct word, to replace 'work', "I work in my garden."  No, I never 'work' in my garden.  Time in my garden is, as Joseph Campbell shared, "...eternity here."  Working in my Garden is pure blessing.
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How does a person get from 'working' in their garden, to knowing time in their garden is the gift of eternity, and a blessing? 
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Moving along to Sunday School last Sunday.  Over a century old, my tiny local Baptist church is within walking distance of my ca. 1900 home, and I can hear its steeple bells from my house. 
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Interestingly the word 'servant' was specifically brought up in our lesson.  Our teacher saying the bible translation for 'servant' would more accurately, now, be translated as 'slave'.  Not debating this in the least, instead, enjoying its scope-for-the-imagination.
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The changing of a long known metaphor, using 'slave' instead of 'servant'.
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How many thousands of hours have I been in a garden, mine, clients, friends, my grandmother's ?
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At some point, no specific eureka epiphany, instead, a 'knowing' learned in my Garden.  The bible is the word of G*d written by man, inspired from G*d.
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Nature, a Garden, has no intermediary with man.  Gardens speak directly to us.  No translations needed.   
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A few months after moving into our historic home, 3 years ago, I was in the garden, on my rear, legs spread around azaleas, pulling weeds, sliding my rear down the hedge as I pulled.  A cobalt blue flash sparkled between my forearms, then flew away.  Odd.  Thought I was seeing things, a cobalt blue dragon fly, really?  Realized I may need to go get some water.
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Kept pulling weeds, and back came that cobalt blue dragon fly, landing on my forearm.  Something I knew could not exist.  Happily informing me, Wrong.  Incredible life lesson.
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Don't understand this life lesson?  No worries, understanding arrives in the drive to have or understand beautiful historic Gardens.  Promise.
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Garden & Be Well,   XOT
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Another word my Sunday school teacher mentioned, 'fellowship'.  Saying it would probably be translated now as, 'partnership'.  Again, not debating this, totally enjoying the meandering thought paths.
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Again, something as simple as going to Sunday school, I received as a Garden Design class, completely geared for me.  Happens most days, every decade of my life.  Had thought of these moments, cheerfully, as selfish.  Blessedly, about 2 decades ago, realized those moments not selfish in the least, instead, those moments are pure grace.
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No, I never work in my Garden, instead I take from my Garden, and, remain open to receiving from my Garden.