From My Garden

Margaret Hodges Hood in the gardens of Goodwood, April, 1962:

In front of large oak on lawn

This passage by Margaret E. Sangster (1838-1912) was found in one of the Hodges' scrapbooks.  This scrapbook was assembled by both Senator Hodges and Margaret.

From My Garden

by Margaret E. Sangster

I have learned many truths from my garden.  I have grown, with my flowers, in tact and gentleness, in laughter and in religion.  For a garden holds the essence of life and tells the story of life's loveliness. 

I have learned that growing things, no matter where they are placed, will lean eagerly toward the light of day.  I have learned that the dancing shadow of a leaf will change a grim brick wall to a thing of beauty. 

I have learned that weeds may be entirely charming, and I have learned that the sturdy green of those plants that do not bear blossoms is needed to lend leaven to a riot of color.

I have learned that thinning out is often necessary if one would have a garden grow in health.  And I have learned also that the process of thinning out may be accomplished in all tenderness and compassion. 

I honestly believe that it would be hard to own a garden and at the same time be an atheist.  For God's presence is in every breath of fragrance and His touch is on the petal of each flower. 

The most fragile blade of grass that pushes its way through the prison of the earth is one of His miracles.  His enduring mercy is in the courage of each perennial that has slept beneath the snow and has dared waken to the call of a new springtime. 

Every person in the world, I think, should have a garden, even if that garden is only a window box set on a sunny ledge, or a flat bowl of lily bulbs on a table.  Every person in the world should have the splendor and peace of a garden to fill the hours with living music and lyric verse. 

Some luxuries are beyond our grasp--and it is better, perhaps, that they should be.  But the luxury of owning a garden is beyond the grasp of no one. 

I have seen a scarlet geranium growing in glory upon a tenement windowsill.  And I have seen the pinched face of a slum child, bending above it, take on a reflection of its radiance.