A Garden for Pablo: Happiness is the way

Monday, 31 December 2012

Happiness is the way

Shed no tear! O shed no tear!

The flowers will bloom another year.

Weep no more! O weep no more!

Young buds sleep in the root’s white core.

From Faery Queen by John Keats

Today's pansy basket - with its promise of delight to come in the in the new year ahead

Don’t evaluate your life in terms of achievements, trivial or monumental, along the way … Instead, wake up and appreciate everything you encounter along the path.

Enjoy the flowers that are there for your pleasure. Tune in to the sunrise, the little children, the laughter, the rain and the birds.

Drink it all in… there is no way to happiness;

Happiness is the way.

Dr Wayne W. Dyer

Pablo's Christmas outfit

Compliments of the Season and best wishes for 'happy gardening' in 2013

Pablo Cat.

1 comment:

Avril9 January 2013 at 09:30
Happy New Year and Happy Gardening in 2013 to Pablo Cat!
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Garden Lore

Who will take care of this garden, who will nurture it?

I will, said January.

I will anchor it to the earth with snowdrops.

I will give it my stone, the garnet.

It is mine, said February.

I will feed it the memory of all that grows.

I will welcome it with amethyst and primrose.

I will coax it with bloodstone and daffodil, said March.

Like a boxer battered by winter

I will lift myself from the frosty canvas of the earth to welcome it.

With diamond and daisy I will seduce it.

I will soak it in shower after shower, said April.

In the yawny earth its seeds will riot.

I will make it dizzy with emeralds

And the fumes of the hawthorn, said May.

It will know of nothing but play.

And I will adorn it with a necklace

Of honeysuckle and ruby, said June.

It will dance to my languid tune.

I will contain it, said July.

I will handcuff it with briar and chrysolite,

Drug it with the scent of roses.

August spoke from the garden’s stillness.

I will weep layer upon layer of sardonyx.

I will teach it the brevity of poppies.

When its bones begin to creak

I will cure it with aster and opal,

promised September.

I will guide it towards sleep with the cold light of sapphires;

For its lullaby I will provide the swan song of dahlias,

said October.

Under the weight of dead chrysanthemums I will bury it,

said November. I will give it a headstone of topaz,

a rosary of berries.

And I will guard its sleep, said December.

On a pillow of moonstone

It will dream of holly and the coming snowdrop.

Brian Patten