Reader Jeff wrote a comment on the Garden Update post which was so poetic I didn't want it buried.
As easily as anyone I can see an outward sign of what most regard as wealth...big fancy houses, expensive exotic cars, first-class world travel... the list is endless...and feel a certain real attraction from time to time. But for sheer jealously, pure longing, a palpable, wistful desire, for me nothing can compete with the images of a bountiful garden.
Even knowing the unimaginable amount of hard work it represents, I am overcome with jealousy. Smiling, good-natured jealously, but all the same. I am currently not in a position, space-wise, climate-wise, time-wise, else-wise to even begin to address my shortcomings in this regard. Were I there, I'd give you a big hug, Don a solemn handshake, and without words, wander endlessly, in awe, around the tires, til someone came with a flashlight and fetched me out of the darkness.
Reminds me of the lovely poem by Dorothy Frances Gurney, the most famous verse of which is:
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.