Daily Garden Reflections

These flowers of June, the gates of memory unbar; these flowers of June, such old-time harmonies retune.

One day in the bluest of summer weather, sketching under a whispering oak, I heard five bobolinks laughing together.

When friendly summer calls again, calls again her little fifers to these hills, we'll go—we two—to that arched fane of leafage.

Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.

To watch the corn grow, and the blossoms set; to draw hard breath over ploughshare or spade; to read, to think, to love, to hope, to pray.

One of the most delightful things about gardening is the freemasonry it gives with other gardeners, and the pleasure all gardeners get.

Just think of the butter and eggs and things; so wash off the buggy and hitch up the mare and we'll go out to the county fair.

This very act of planting a seed in the earth has in it to me something beautiful. I always do it with a joy that is largely mixed with awe.

Down in a green and shady bed, a modest violet grew. Its stalk was bent, it hung its head as if to hide from view.

It is the month of June, the month of leaves and roses, when pleasant sights salute the eyes and pleasant scents the noses.

I will lie here awhile and play with the water and the sun spots. The sky is blue and high, and there is a whiff of tulips and narcissus in the air.