Sunday's Thoughts

"To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under
heaven:
A time to be born,
And a time to die;
A time to plant,
And a time to pluck
what is planted;
A time to kill,
And a time to heal;
A time to break down,
And a time to build up;
A time to weep
And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn,
And a time to dance,
A time to cast away stones,
And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace,
And a time to refrain from
embracing;
A time to gain,
And a time to lose;
A time to keep,
And a time to throw away;
A time to tear,
And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence,
And a time to speak;
A time to love,
And a time to hate;
A time of war,
And a time of peace."
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

A GIRL'S GARDEN
A neighbor of mine in the village
Likes to tell how one spring
When she was a girl on the farm, she did
A childlike thing.

One day she asked her father
To give her a garden plot
To plant and tend and reap herself,
And he said, "Why not?"

In casting about for a corner
He thought of an idle bit
Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood,
And he said, "Just it."

And he said, "That ought to make you
An ideal one-girl farm,
And give you a chance to put some strength
On your slim-jim arm."

It was not enough of a garden,
Her father said, to plough;
So she had to work it all by hand,
But she don't mind now.

She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow
Along a stretch of road;
But she always ran away and left
Her not-nice load,
And hid from anyone passing.
And then she begged the seed.
She says she thinks she planted one
Of all things but weed.

A hill each of potatoes,
Radishes, lettuce, peas,
Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn,
And even fruit trees.

And yes, she has long mistrusted
That a cider apple tree
In bearing there today is hers,
Or at least may be.

Her crop was a miscellany
When all was said and done,
A little bit of everything,
A great deal of none.

Now when she sees in the village
How village things go,
Just when it seems to come in right,
She says, "O know!

It's as when I was a farmer------"
Oh, never by way of advice!
And she never sins by telling the tale
To the same person twice.
Robert Frost

Have a blessed Sunday!
Kim