I watched my granddaughter get on the school bus this morning, watched the grandboys drive off to school in their red golf cart, watched their mother motor off to her work, and I followed behind them driving home from Georgia on an early morning under an overcast sky. I could catch glimpses of Father Sky’s blue pastels behind the clouds. The clouds were smashed together but I could see their rounded bellies and crowns outlined in vivid grays and purples. The sky made me think of a cobalt blue glass bottle crammed full of cotton balls, the silver lid screwed on tightly, compressing the crowded cotton balls in their rounded shapes. When I got about ten miles past Newnan a haze of fog dropped from the sky. Wasn’t on the ground, was about level with my car’s roof so it didn’t hinder my driving but was eerily weird. Felt like I was driving into the The Twilight Zone. I watched for a T-Rex to step out from the mist.

When I got home and put my things away, I perched in the swing listening to the songbird symphonies and watched the sun burn the cotton ball clouds away, revealing a beautiful azure blue sky. The sun brightened the landscape so vividly green from the rain’s fertilizer. Been gone two nights and my vegetables grew inches. The tomatoes and squash are blooming and the cucumbers are putting their tendrils out, wrapping around the trellis, getting ready to bloom. My sunflowers planted by the birds are beginning to open. Oldest brother hasn’t been able to tiller my flower bed because of all the rain. I’ll just enjoy the birds’ blooms till I can get my sunflowers and zinnias planted.

I sat the swing after supper. The sun was a golden ball at sunset, rolling down a dish of blueberry ice cream melting the blueberry sauce on either side of the horizon, the colors getting lighter, turning into mauves and lilacs. I can see the individual rays of the sun as they filter in prism colors through the old magnolias. Mother Nature has painted a sunset as a study of purple. The earth is so beautiful at the day’s gloaming. The fireflies are waking now.

Edna St. Vincent Millay said, “God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on thy heart.” I feel close to God when I have my hands in the dirt. I marvel at how a tiny seed can grow a mammoth sunflower. I wonder how God chose all the different shades for the tomatoes when I pick one and feel the warmth of the sunshine on its skin. I see the garden of Eden as a magnificent oil painting, a place where beauty was perfect — roses in vibrant shades, colorful wildflowers on the hillsides, fruit trees laden with beautiful glossy fruit, vegetables in the fresh hues of a new box of crayons.

“Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land,” Song of Solomon 2:12. The Bible is full of verses with flower imagery. I think first of the lilies of the valley which represent feelings of joy and happiness, purity and innocence. Jesus referred to himself as the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley in the Song of Solomon. The little delicate bell flowers, fragrant as perfume, burst forth from the earth after winter’s darkness, reminding us of the hopefulness of our faith when the days are dark. I read this afternoon the tear-drop shaped blossoms of the lily of the valley first bloomed where Eve’s tears fell on the ground as she left the Garden of Eden. The little flowers also represent the tears Mary cried at Jesus’s crucifixion.

We are all flowers growing in God’ garden, bringing joy and hope to a world in need. Guess we all bloom differently and at different times but we all have gifts that we can use to enhance God’s earthly garden. Some of us bloom in rich colors and our faith radiates from us through our words and actions. Others bloom quietly and deeply in the earth bringing peace and love and words of encouragement to broken hearts. Let’s all bloom and sow seeds of kindness and compassion on the world.

We all have gifts from God and we need to share them in our earthly gardens, planting the seeds of God’s love and grace as we travel through life.

“Flowers are the music of the ground from earth’s lips spoken without sound.” — Edwin Curran