From the back porch, I see Ben in his corner of the garden. Something has his full attention, but I can't tell what and I don't have time to go find out...
This afternoon, I wander out to the back corner and see that next to our fledgling cedar, he's made a shrine. Tree stumps hold a wooden box, upright, containing a Hindu deity, stones, a bowl and a small flower. The Buddha looks out over all the gardens.
Shiv takes any opportunity to educate me about Hinduism, so in a later conversation, he reveals that this particular Buddha is revered throughout many Asian countries, and that it will "sing" mantras to help the garden grow, like he does. Shiv has a very strong accent, and after all these years, I still have a hard time understanding all of his words, so while he tries to tell me more, I only get bits and pieces. I'll have to listen more closely next time. Meanwhile, he's planting rows of peas for the bunch of us.
My grandfather's name was Ben. For years, a wooden sign, somewhat common at the time, stood in his garden. It read, "The kiss of the sun for pardon, the song of the birds for mirth, one is nearer God's heart in the garden than any place else on earth."* The sign is long gone, and I'm hardly religious, but those are words that stayed with me from childhood. I do think that certain places are more sacred than others, and I'm pretty certain that a garden is one of them.
(Photo to come)
*Dorothy Frances Gurny, 1858-1932
No comments:
Post a Comment