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In this garden we guard the den of nature, for here we bare our souls in such nurturing safety.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 14, 2020.
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The garden gave us sanctuary and so we made sure to plant the kind of flora that did the same for mother nature.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 14, 2020.
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If the insects and birds aren't thriving there maximally, it is no garden but a green desert.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 14, 2020.
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Ha! Grass isn't a garden! It's an affront to the natural flora! Show me a garden of of native trees flowers I'll show you a place where nature thrives!

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 14, 2020.
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When food equity became a reality, when the developing countries got their fair share of the global platter, we were so happy but there were necessary changes. For a start, we took down all the garden fences and looked at the land again. In so many places it could be ploughed and planted with crops for the local community. The effort of it brought us closer together, working as a team. It was the start of something new, something we'd been missing for so long. In other places the gardens became woodlands, places to play and nature reserves. The madness of the grass-era faded and what came to replace it was far more beautiful.

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Into the bowl go the fruits of the garden as little Carissa tiptoes through the plants. The splash of red berries is so vibrant upon the green ceramic and her hands spread over the clay ripples as perfect starfish upon summer rocks.

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Among my friends of root and wand, amid each green leaf and delicate petal, there are the dancing birds and the squirrels that dart. It is as if the song, the scurries and the subtle movements of flora are their voice, the song of the garden for those who listen with more than their ears.

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The garden was always a shade brighter in the rain. It was as if the gift of the skies wasn't water, but liquid magic, washing our world to show what was there all along, nature in her in humble brilliance. The buttercups became gold, the grass the shade of every dreamers meadow, roots quenched, soil renewed. And after the patter of the rain came bursts of birdsong, their hearts rejoicing the occasion of the rain.

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The gardener and garden are as children playing rough, each smiling as they push back on one another. The role of the person is to bring the balance they need, the role of nature is to assert herself as she cradles the life that dwells within. I always saw Pearl as a gentle gardener, one who joined hands with the greenery to cradle nature too. She left the top fruit for the birds, that which fell to the floor for creatures of fur and paw. There were the wild parts, the tame parts, chaos and order in one beautiful system.