Our Flower Garden

One morning while walking through the garden, my heart overflowed with love and gratitude for the plants and flowers which were growing where, the previous year, there had been only weeds and clay. Each flower seemed so distinct in its beauty: some modest and simple, others large and gorgeous, but all expressing beauty and growth, each striving to express its best. And the efforts of all combined produced a garden of bloom that filled one's heart with glad rejoicing.

Thought was, however, turned back to the year before, when the place had been merely a mass of hard earth, overgrown by weeds and almost endless deep-rooted blackberry bushes. How and where to begin to clear space for a garden had seemed quite a problem. Unless every tiny particle of blackberry root were pulled out, it would spring up time and time again. Discouragement boldly advanced, and tried to argue that the task was too great, or even hopeless. Intelligence showed that earnest work each day would mean fewer weeds and more flowers; so each day a little patch of weeds was cleared away, poor soil replaced with richer soil, and flower seeds planted.

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"An instrument of ten strings"
February 26, 1927
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