I’m always reminded, on the very first day that we spend in the garden as a family for the first time in the year, the hymn ‘Morning Has Broken’, because with each new spring I am blown away by it all. You would think we’d never seen a sky, or felt the sun before. That flowers and leaves were foreign or novel. We walk around blinking, shedding layers, digging, investigating, finding our garden again.
And each year it’s like we’ve never seen it before, that each beginning touches upon a long forgotten memory – the memory of an outdoor way of life until the next winter.
We remember another way of living, a old, but new-again rhythm to our days. Picnic blankets are washed, outdoor furniture washed down, clothes are back on the line and there is a hum again of children and birds and people. Laughter, siren-like incessant birdsong, ice-cream vans already!
Indeed, it sounds very much like life has arisen from a land that was dead.
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