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Inside Looking Out: Angels of the gardens

Something unexpected often persuades me to write one of these columns.

Recently, I read a story in the Times News by our wonderful writer, Donald R. Serfass about a Tamaqua woman who had passed away.

She was called the “Tulip Lady” by everyone who had known her.

Her garden was ablaze with over 6,000 tulips of all colors and varieties and they say it was impossible for anyone driving by on a late May morning not to slow down or even come to a complete stop to gaze at her majestic myriad blossoms waving their beauty in the warm spring breeze.

I have come to believe that a person who grows a garden holds an artist’s palette of colors that has been touched by the hand of God. The prep work before the finished painting is arduous. Digging in the dirt with a small spaded shovel to plant seeds and bulbs is a labor of love. Then to fertilize, weed, and keep their beauties healthy and happy are compassionate tasks of garden growers nurturing their delicate babies.

My mother grew irises and when I was a young boy of 11 or 12. I couldn’t help but take notice of the intricate details inside every flower. You just have to appreciate that these creations were birthed by those who decorate the earth with blossoms and blooms while wearing the wings of angels, fluttering about their grounds of glory in joyous celebration.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “The earth laughs in flowers.”

So, do their growers, too. Angels of the gardens are most often warmhearted and compassionate.

They delight in children, not only their own, but those of others. Gardeners enjoy the simple things in life: a day spent with family, watching a movie while snuggling on the couch, and listening to songbirds from their back porches.

They laugh at themselves, too, even after they get drenched from a sudden summer downpour during an afternoon spent pulling weeds.

Flower growers spoil us with their toil. We get to enjoy their daffodils, their begonias, their hibiscus, their roses, petunias, pansies, and so many other varieties of blooming plants without us doing any of the work.

Behold spectacular spring, summer, and autumn outdoor theatrical displays to enjoy free of charge!

The playwright, Victor Hugo wrote, “a garden to walk in, an immensity to dream in – what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.” Nothing can bring me to a greater sensation of awe then to be in the presence of a canvas painted upon the earth by the hands and hearts of those who decorate their landscapes with floral ecstasy.

I have had such experiences with my lady friend, Sharon. She speaks of her blooming buds like they are her children. She nurtures them in nature’s arena, planting them in the best of soils and quenching their thirst from rainwater she collects in a barrel.

I sit upon her backyard deck and gaze at a purple clematis showing off its brilliance at the top of a trellis. I smile at the deep red begonias that surround her deck with their welcoming warmth.

Gardens are not only domesticated. Playwright Tennessee Williams wrote, “The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.”

Take notice of wildflowers that thrive in the forest or at the sides of roadways, attended only by sunshine and rain drops whenever they should fall upon them.

They live and they die by nature’s decision and we can come to realize that so do we.

One might ask why angels of the gardens spend so much time growing such fragile plants that present its beauty for just a few weeks to a few months and are gone until the next season.

Their gardens need to be fleeting, have to be temporary; otherwise, we’d consider them as nothing more than commonplaces that we take for granted every day of the year.

And yet, though their presence comes and goes, the love we receive from them can stay in our hearts through the darkest of nights and the coldest of winters until next season when the celebratory cycle begins again.

I have had an extraordinary experience of actually seeing a white lily open into full bloom while I sat on a couch. The flower was clustered within a bouquet sent to my lady friend by her son for Mother’s Day. It stretched its bud into a long flute before my eyes and the immediate scent was exhilarating. I enjoyed this moment in quiet solitude, but part of me wanted to jump up and shout, “Yes!”

Flowers symbolize life and love. Carole Radziwill said, “The very best relationship has a gardener and a flower. The gardener nurtures and the flower blooms.”

The lady who digs her dirt and wipes her brow is preparing for the birth of her other “children,” The man who builds a greenhouse sets the perfect place to protect his potted plants. The husband who supports his wife’s endeavors to start an organic business and the wife who encourages her husband to go fishing to get away from it all, they too nurture their loved ones back to nature.

Flower growers deserve our gratitude. They produce food for the soul, a spiritual awakening from the salt of the earth.

Come outside. Observe the flight of monarch butterflies upon the blossoms. Delight in the hummingbird drinking sweet nectar from a pink petunia that is but all too happy to quench its thirst.

Experience concerts by earthy ensembles of beautiful flowers orchestrated by Mother Nature with daily performances conducted by angels of the gardens.

Email Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com.