I recall that somewhere in the Bible the phrase “a holy place ” is used, and I thought of it today as I was sitting in our backyard surrounded by Delycia’s now overflowing flower gardens. These days, our backyard seems as holy a place as any church. People go to church to worship what’s beautiful and good and true, and I find the beautiful, good, and true in our backyard on a daily basis. What is more beautiful than a crowd of pink rose blossoms, and what is more full of goodness than flourishing trees sharing their shade on a sunny day? And where is the truth, and the whole truth, better found than in an everyday backyard with breezes blowing by and birds swooping and singing all around? I agree with Emily Dickinson, who said she kept the Sabbath by staying at home and listening in her garden to the sermons of God, “a noted Clergyman”. What better sermon is there than the sight of iris blossoms floating on their stems, or the sound of songbirds having dignified discussions while perched on a feeder full of seeds?

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Below are some slides of the blossoms in Delycia’s lovely – and holy – garden today:

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He wished to be like a god. 
It would be good to have a golden life, 
like a light was always glowing around him. 
It would be special 
to see himself shining like a star
as he shops at the grocery store,
or to feel like fresh flowers 
are blossoming around his thoughts all day long. 
Dangers would steal away from him 
for fear of his powers.
Goodness would grow around him like grass. 
Steep, sharp hills 
would become easy trails 
he could stroll with satisfaction. 
He occasionally wished this,
but almost always he soon noticed 
the starry shine in the skin of his hands,
and the golden light on his shoulders 
from the lamp in the living room. 

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