"We need desperately to recreate the bliss, the ecstasy, the joy of that something out of reach yet somehow part of us already. We can feel it like in a dream, but we long to reach out and pull it back into us where we want it to belong forever. The garden is this, both in itself and as a self-reflective metaphor for understanding ourselves. I want beauty and life; I plant that in my garden to have it close like a lover’s touch; I nurture my garden with water, compost, and pruning; I look forward to the first picking and the many harvests after that; I prepare myself for the first frosts when the bounty of my garden will begin to return to the elements from which it sprang months before; and during the cold hard winter I will bring that beauty into my heart and mind recalling the pleasures and pain of my garden and my gardening. Garden is my teacher. Teach me about my life and my passing from this life."
From my "The Garden: Perennial Reflections on Beginnings and Ends" Chapter 26 Longing, Love, and Loss
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