Sunday, May 19, 2013


I am grateful this week for mowing.  It may seem odd as one who is so much for nature and the environment.  But even more than that I am for the truth.  Though I love the wild I do love many things about the mowing.  There is a great beauty in the the "order" it creates, we humans seem drawn to that sight.  Plus, who doesn't love the scent of new mown grass?  

There is a very pragmatic side as a gardener that enjoys the bounty of mowing that = MULCH....we have a sweeper that  "gives" me grass MULCH!

But, by now, you must know it is process that moves me more than results.  Mowing is a time I connect with the one I love on a deeper--- on a separate level.  He mows, I weed whack, he sweeps, I spread the love of his swept up works.  Together and Apart we create a life.

I have LOVED this poem since I was a girl....never thinking I would truly live it.  I guess what we love is attracted to our life.  This for U who wishes to remain blog~nonymous   <3   I am GRATEFUL for all you do to make this place a wonderful experience!

The Tuft of Flowers

I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,

As all must be,' I said within my heart,
Whether they work together or apart.'

But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a 'wildered butterfly,

Seeking with memories grown dim o'er night
Some resting flower of yesterday's delight.

And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly weed when I came.

The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

Men work together,' I told him from the heart,
Whether they work together or apart.'

This a big ol' tuft of Flowers!  Thanks for feeling the same way about this very old apple orchard on this land that need to be left in peace.  

It is my intention, each Sunday, to share something that fills me with Gratitude. 
I write ~~~Gratitude~~~ with the wavy lines to represent the gratitude ENERGY~~~~~! 
I hope you will join me and share your gratitude moments. 
~~~Amen, Blessed Be, Namaste'~~~

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