12 March 2013

The Mustard Seed

This place is pure faith.
My yard is my own Secret Garden,
and I am Mary.

There is still much to discover here.
March 23rd will mark one year in this house.

I continue to marvel at how life has changed.
Somedays, I still wait to awaken.

This afternoon, I paid attention.

I walked deliberately the perimeter of this property.
I listened to birds.
To windchimes.
I dug my boots into the mossy loam,
gathered dirt beneath my nails.
It smelled of past rains.
Of wet earth and future growth.

There is a shrub bearing pale peach blooms 
which I never noticed last spring.
It's beautiful.
Flowers heavy, falling....
too full to be withstood by weak limbs.

They look lovely, those flowers,
even when scattered and broken on the ground.
Many things do.


I began to take inventory.

Five magnolias.
A weeping cherry.
A tulip tree.
Eight dogwoods.
Six ancient pin oaks.
One water oak.
A japanese maple.
Knockout roses.
Various evergreen trees and shrubs.
Boxwoods.  Holly.  English ivy by the mile.
Snow on the mountain.
Pampas grasses.
Anything else that has not yet risen.
Everything else I do not know,
and there is much I do not know.

Saint Francis watches over them,
with his broken hand and his teary,
limestone-stained face.
I love him as I do this house.

Symbolic of us all.

 There are brick walkways and borders buried beneath
the skin of past seasons.

There are more daffodils than I can count.
More azaleas, strained and straggling from neglect-

A village of prospects.
Of incomplete, unpolished specimens.
I fit in.
I fit here.

There is moss and lichen.
There are ample oak limbs for swings-
There are shady spots for benches.

There is immense potential.
My mustard seed of a home and I-
we have this in common.

It will take faith,
it will take time....

But we, love, are built by love,
to love and to be loved.
We are built for the best life brings.

I left the rake and the loppers in the shed
as the sun began to leave me.
The lights came on,
and I found myself in a southern sunset...
Looking around this work in progress.
Looking within this work in progress.

{{My heart.}}

It's alright.
It will be so again.

This is home...
Anais once said that she chose a house
she could grow with and be nurtured by,
like the plants surrounding the structure.

Yes, love.
This is home.
This is home.

This is home.


  1. you and st. francis: watching over your home, so full of love.
    you blessed my heart this evening.


  2. My question remains...when are you writing your first book? Your voice is so strong and your words just flow, girl! I love reading your work and knowing you again in the printed word. Blessings to you and your family.

    1. Ah, Mrs. J. Thank you. I'd love to write a book... I'm not sure what I have to say that would warrant publishing to paper. One day, maybe. As with everything else as of now... one day.

      Hugs to you.

  3. a beautiful song of redemption and hope is what I read here
    I see you finding your way home...truly
    and re-formed
    still you
    still the beautiful you....
    older, wiser, fuller,more open...
    a vast field of endless possibilities
    : )

    love and light

    1. Thank God, Cat. Thank God I'm growing. Whatever else I may be, I don't want to be who I've been. Baby steps, but ever forward. :)

      Love and Light.

  4. Nature is such a soothing balm, is it not? And there is nothing I enjoy more than toiling in the dirt, clearing away the old and welcoming in the new. It's good for the soul.

    I am loving your new work, by the way. It's like something has been uncovered in the garden of your own heart and is blooming forth with daring new ideas. You amaze and inspire me, Jess. Much love to you.

    1. Likewise, Jo. I will see you this spring. One more week of the longest winter ever... and we are thawing. XO

  5. Replies
    1. Thank you for reading, Janet, and for taking the time to comment. It means a great deal. :)

  6. I've thought so many times this last week about a phone call to you and yet the days flew. Know that you've been on my mind in the best way.

    1. When you can, mama... I'm not going anywhere. Kiss that sweet sack of taters for me.
      Love you mightily.

  7. I've been thinking of you often and sending you strength and love. Your yard sounds like heaven to me

    1. I've thought of you too, and that warrior heart. If you come to Carolina, there is always a space for you here.

      Love to you, Genie. Thank you for being you.