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OR more than a score of years, my 
garden and I have been good friends 
. . . friends that never bore, never im- 
pose and never inflict any penalties upon 
one another. We understand each other 
. and as a result ... both of us 
flourish. But my garden is. different 
from the average . . . vastly different. 
For instance, in the average garden 
when one plants petunias, petunias come 
up and bloom . .’. and if one plants 
radishes, radishes grow! But I repeat, 
my garden is different . . . I plant pe- 
tunias, asters, zinnias and harvest in 
bountiful return . . . contentment, sat- 
isfaction, relaxation and appreciative- 
ness. 
In short, my garden gives me solace 
and quietude from a world of turmoil 
and strife . . . it is the one spot in my 
life, where, after the world extracts 
eight, ten and even twelve hours of 
physical and mental energy, I can 
gather to me a feeling of contentment, 
and rest, that try as I may, I cannot 
duplicate it in any other manner, believe 
me. 
To start with, my garden is no differ- 
ent than that patch of ground outside 
your own doorstep... it starts out 
exactly the same as that . ... with dirt 
. . the stuff for which children are 
scolded when they become too familiar 
with it . . . and yet, did you ever see a 
healthy normal youngster that didn’t 
like to dig in the soil? 
There’s something warm and intimate 
in working with good growing-earth .. . 
and why not... does not life itself 
stem from the very earth? So, when I 
plant my garden I feel privileged indeed 
to stimulate to life the tiny live spark 
deep within each seed . . . I love seeds 
. small diminutive specks endowed 
by God with the power to bring forth 
living testimony of Nature’s greatness 
. . it makes me stop and think... 
when J plant a seed! And when I real- 
ize that that privilege is mine, something 
inside me swells with a feeling that 
wipes away all man-made cares and 
tribulations. 
Yes, gardening brings a man to his 
knees, right down to earth . . . and for 
most of us that’s good . . . for too often 
do we walk among our fellow men with 
our noses held just a bit too high! But 
on your knees in contact with the moist 
soil, gently warmed by Spring’s early 
sunshine, ah! that’s the time you have a 
moment to yourself in which to relax 
and think about the worth-while things 
in life. 
Oh, yes, the world passes by my gar- 
den and admires its beauty of color . . 
its fragility of blooms and its generosity 
of crisp, health-giving vegetables .. . 
some of my friends and neighbors com- 
ment on the practical side of my garden- 
ing . . . even smack their lips in antici- 
pation of preserved fruits and tasty 
vegetables, way out of season ... and 
others perhaps envy my “savings.” Yes, 
those things, the passing world sees and 
admires. 
Perhaps that’s why I smile to them 
and to myself when their words of 
praise ring in my ears, for little does the 
world know that the outward signs of 
my gardening are but the aftermath of 
the true harvest of gardening ... the 
feeling inside, that you're glad that 
you're alive . . . that there’s a God in 
Heaven ...and that once again 
throughout the world shall re-echo the 
cry that “All’s Well.” 
== 
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