Life is a song - sing it.

Life is a game - play it.

Life is a challenge - meet it. 

Life is a dream - realize it. 

Life is a sacrifice - offer it. 

Life is love - enjoy it.

-Sai Baba

That man is successful who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much, who has gained the respect of the intelligent men and the love of children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who leaves the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who never lacked appreciation of earth's beauty or failed to express it; who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had. 

     -Robert Louis Stevenson?

WHY?

Why must I?
Because it will be better if I do.

Wisdom

A Lesson Learned While Gardening

– If I put the seed in the ground, I might fail to produce a successful crop. If I don't put the seed in the ground, I will certainly fail to produce a crop of any kind.

I was afraid to put the carrot seed in the ground until I realized that the worst that could happen would be that the seed wouldn't grow and I would be out the few dollars that I spent on the seed. It took me three years to realize this. I finally put the seed in the ground and they produced two beautiful rows of carrots. – I experienced this parable several years ago but I didn't see beyond the practical implications of it until just now. This is very much like the story of the men who were given the funds to invest while their boss was off on a trip. The one who, as I with my seed, held on to it for fear of losing it, ultimately lost what he was given anyway. I would have lost my seed and had nothing to show for it because they don't last forever in the packet. 

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If I had my life to live over again, I would ask that not a thing be changed, but that my eyes be opened wider.
Jules Renard

Let us dance down the hall and out the door and into the fields. -T. J. Grey

DIGGING

To-day I think

Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield,

And bracken, and wild carrot's seed,

And the square mustard field;

Odours that rise

When the spade wounds the root of tree,

Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed,

Rhubarb or celery;

The smoke's smell, too,

Flowing from where a bonfire burns

The dead, the waste, the dangerous,

And all to sweetness turns.

It is enough

To smell, to crumble the dark earth,

While the robin sings over again

Sad songs of Autumn mirth.

- Edward Thomas, Collected Poems

I think the true gardener is a lover of his flowers, not a critic of them. I think the true gardener is the reverent servant of Nature, not her truculent, wife-beating master. I think the true gardener, the older he grows, should more and more develop a humble, grateful and uncertain spirit.

~Reginald Farrer, In a Yorkshire Garden, 1909