The Peaceful Garden

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erbeds and let Motown mingle with the warm soil.Despite a lack of silence, though, the garden was forever peace-filled. Nature knows how to calm the heart and tamper with tranquility until it swells.Today my garden is a quaint courtyard stocked with small trees, roses that climb, and trailing flowers that hang from the walls.A metal staircase winds closer to the sunroof where my healing herbs reside. They sprout from every planter and terracotta pot, and even an immense half-barrel that resembles a coracle of sorts is herb-filled and sweet-scented.Bees and butterflies love it. They buzz and hum, or flit to and fro to admire each blossom. Then, on summer evenings, as the sun sets, I watch the birds swoop and play in the sapphire sky from a beautiful nook.Swallows often nest in the overhang next to the stone barn. And when t

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he chicks hatch, they poke their heads up and holler from wide beaks. Their first flights bewitch me.When the time is right, they leap without fear into the unknown and spread their wings. They flutter to the ground and try, try, try again until the magic happens. Or they take off into the blue without a struggle.The beauty and resilience found in my garden remind me we, too are part of nature. No matter what happens or how fragile we seem, we are built to survive, adapt, and flourish.<h2 id="fe0e">Don’t want to miss new stories? Click here for limitless access to my writing and every other story on Medium.</h2>Bridget Webber writes articles for magazines and websites; she often ghostwrites for professionals who can’t spare the time to pen compositions. She’s written poetry eBooks and is featured in several leading publications.</article></body>

Nature knows how to calm the heart and tamper with tranquility until it swells

I recall the garden days of my youth, spent rolling on a lush carpet of green or climbing a massive copper beech tree. There was always something special to do out there. Handstands, ant-watching, or gathering rich purple plumbs in the folds of my skirt.

Our garden was not always quiet: Sometimes, we squealed with delight, and our laughter drifted across the terrace. Or I lay my beloved radio amid the flowerbeds and let Motown mingle with the warm soil.

Despite a lack of silence, though, the garden was forever peace-filled. Nature knows how to calm the heart and tamper with tranquility until it swells.

Today my garden is a quaint courtyard stocked with small trees, roses that climb, and trailing flowers that hang from the walls.

A metal staircase winds closer to the sunroof where my healing herbs reside. They sprout from every planter and terracotta pot, and even an immense half-barrel that resembles a coracle of sorts is herb-filled and sweet-scented.

Bees and butterflies love it. They buzz and hum, or flit to and fro to admire each blossom. Then, on summer evenings, as the sun sets, I watch the birds swoop and play in the sapphire sky from a beautiful nook.

Swallows often nest in the overhang next to the stone barn. And when the chicks hatch, they poke their heads up and holler from wide beaks. Their first flights bewitch me.

When the time is right, they leap without fear into the unknown and spread their wings. They flutter to the ground and try, try, try again until the magic happens. Or they take off into the blue without a struggle.

The beauty and resilience found in my garden remind me we, too are part of nature. No matter what happens or how fragile we seem, we are built to survive, adapt, and flourish.