We Come From The Earth,

When Held Up To The Window Pane, What Fixed My Baby Stare? The Glory Of The Glittering Rain, And Newness Everywhere.

Is Life Worth Living? Yes, So Long As Spring Revives The Year, And Hails Us With The Cuckoo's Song, To Show That She Is Here.

A Garden That One Makes Oneself Becomes Associated With One’s Personal History And That Of One’s Friends, Interwoven With One’s Tastes, Preferences And Character And Constitutes A Sort Of Unwritten Autobiography.

The Glory Of Gardening: Hands In The Dirt, Head In The Sun, Heart With Nature. To Nurture A Garden Is To Feed Not Just On The Body, But The Soul. Share The Botanical Bliss Of Gardeners Through The Ages, Who Have Cultivated Philosophies To Apply To Their Own - And Our Own - Lives: Show Me Your Garden And I Shall Tell You What You Are.

Thought, Stumbling, Plods Past Fallen Temples, Vanished Gods, Altars Unincensed, Fanes Undecked, Eternal Systems Flown Or Wrecked; Through Trackless Centuries That Grant To The Poor Trudge Refreshment Scant, Age After Age, Pants On To Find A Melting Mirage Of The Mind.