Sat in the garden on this most pleasant of afternoons, spring – it seems – has finally sprung. The long, harsh winter is finally behind us, and the lawn’s borders have come alive. Daffodils are on their way out, as tulips (of every colour imaginable) are in. The first leaves on the chestnut hang in anticipation of summer. Not forgetting the forget-me-nots, the garden is teaming with beauty. Hats off to Dad: he’s done a fantastic job.
With the sound of the stream trickling merrily in the background, the garden-bench upon which I am sat is an oasis of peace and calm amid the stress of my awaiting revision indoors.
I shall savour the weather a moment longer, before I return to my textbooks upstairs.
The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth;
One is nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on Earth.
— God’s Garden, Dorothy Frances Gurney (1858–1932)
