A HOLY BACKYARD

 I’m sure somewhere in the Bible the phrase “a holy place ” is used, and I thought of it today as I was sitting beside Delycia in our backyard surrounded by her overflowing flower gardens. I hope I don’t offend anyone when I say that our backyard seems as holy a place as any church. Don’t we go to church to worship what’s beautiful and good and true, and don’t I find that in our backyard on a daily basis? What’s more beautiful than a crowd of lustrous coreopsis blossoms, and what’s more full of goodness than grand trees sharing their shade on a summer day? And where is the truth, and the whole truth, better found than in an everyday backyard with breezes blowing by and birds swooping and singing all around? I agree with Emily Dickinson, who said she keeps the Sabbath by staying at home and listening in her garden to the sermons of God, “a noted Clergyman”. What better sermon than the sight of feverfew blossoms floating on their stems, or the sound of house wrens having dignified discussions near their nest?