The Mundane and the Miraculous

The great satisfaction of gardening
lies in the completeness
of the experience,
the yielding of body and
soul to the task at hand.
The simple act of weeding
brings gardeners face to face
with the mundane
and the miraculous.
How did the tiny seeds
of an unwanted European plant
like garlic mustard make their
way across the Atlantic Ocean
and into Connecticut gardens?
The ways of nature are
ongoing mysteries of which gardeners
are a part, albeit insignificant.
But to garden
is to belong to something
eternal, to feel peace
in the moment and hope
for the future.

--Sydney Eddison

Bearing Witness

If I were not here

sitting at the kitchen table,

the wrens would still fly

back and forth,

caring for their offspring,

chattering in the bird bottle.

Unheard and unobserved,

these busy little birds would 

carry on their  domestic duties

whether I were here or not.

It would still be midmorning,

inching minute by minute

toward noon

on a fine summer day.

After that, there would be

a lull in activity--

fledglings sated, adult birds resting

--until the next feeding.

But soon the anxious time

will come when the young

must try their wings.

If I am not here,

who will bear witness to

their coming of age?

--Syndey Eddison

[Photo of fledgling House Wrens in Wallingford, Vermont]

Collection

Had it not been for 

a near-death experience,

I might never have discovered

this new way with words--

gathering them like seashells;

picking through the tidal debris

and selecting only the best;

rolling them around

in my head; arranging

and rearranging them in rows;

studying their shapes and colors,

their relationship to each other

and the effects of proximity.

As shells house the life 

of the sea, so words

house the life of the mind.

And in the time left

to me, it is what

I want to do--

sort through my collection.

--Sydney Eddison

Keeping Silence

Where do the words

come from that

connect me to myself and

to the outside world?

The words that matter arise

from an inaccessible place

beyond the reach of will

and conscious mind.

They cannot be summoned up.

Only in peace and quiet

do they speak their names

softly into the attentive ear,

while the wind's eye

paints their portraits in color.

These are the words

for which I wait

each day.

--Sydney Eddison

[Photo of neighbor's pond in Wallingford, VT]

Gratitude

Thank you for this day--

a wet, green, flowing day

that has only just begun.

Let me not waste it

with busywork and worry.

Both bear unpalatable fruits.

Instead, help me to see

what there is to see;

to listen for the sound

of Your voice in stillness

and with a calm mind.

The garden, at this moment

and in this light,

should be proof enough that 

You are speaking to me,

and I reply with due 

humility and reverence,

thank you for this day.

--Sydney Eddison

[Photo of Tsali and Riley enjoying spring sunshine.]