09/03/2026
A few years ago, we bought a farm that joins our property. The Cowboy had dreamed of owing it as long as I can remember and it was a mess. Much like our farm was when we bought it but worse. The people that had lived there all of their lives, had been gone for over twenty years and the kids and grandchildren, if there were any grandchildren, didn't want anything to do with the farm, so they never took care of it. The land was left to just grow up with weeds and brush. The story was that the dad did it to punish the kids. He let it go thinking they'd have to work hard to get it back to what it once was and teach them a lesson.
Sadly, they didn't learn the lesson. They simply sold it. The lesson was learned by us. It was going to take a lot of work.
We drove around, fascinated by the beauty but saddened by the what it once was. Every spring however, you'd see the jonquils pop up around the dilapidated farm house and in other places where little houses once stood, and you just knew, love once lived there. Happy people plant flowers. You sure couldn't see it now. Raccoons and rats, that's what I saw. Trash and more trash. Old, dirt covered furniture and newspapers that mice had found their homes in. My goodness it was a mess.
The Cowboy got to work. He and other help spent countless hours in equipment, cleaning up the brush, knocking down dead trees, burning old things, bringing the farm back to life and to a place that would grow good grass, keep the wildlife safe, but also feed cattle.
But what about that awful house? That was my domain. We hired some help and got to work hauling out the garbage. I wore as many clothes as possible so nothing could touch my skin. Yuck.
But as we began to go through the trash, I found treasures. A cool old dresser, a banker's table that I am literally writing from now, another dresser, the wooden ironing board which I'd never seen before. An old piano that still had their church bulletin and other important announcements and things taped to the side. His ledger. Family pictures. Their life's treasures just left to rot. It made me sad.
I found this poem. It was in pieces. I don't know if she wrote it or copied it but the way it was written made me think it might have been her own.
"Whose garden was this?
Whose garden was this?
It must have been lovely.
Did it have flowers?
I've seen pictures of flowers
And I'd love to have smelled one.
Whose river was this?
Say it ran freely.
Blue was it's color.
I've seen blue in some pictures
And I've love to have been there.
Oh tell me again;
I need to know.
The meadows were green
The oceans were blue.
And birds really flew.
Can you swear that was true?
Whose gray sky was this!
Or was it a blue one.
Nights had their breezes,
I've heard records of breezes.
And I'd love to have felt one.
Whose garden was this?
It must have been lovely.
Did it have flowers?
I've seen pictures of flowers
And I'd like to have smelled one.
I'd like to have smelled one.
Whose garden was this?"
We finished the little house last week. I still have some work to do in the yard to make it beautiful again but I'd love to show her the little house and the pastures cleaned up and full of cattle. The deer and turkeys are still happily living in the woods, and her flowers still blooming.
Whose garden was this? Well it's God's garden. The whole world is His. We only have care of a tiny part of it for a very short time and then we pass it along to the next gardener to tend to for Him.
The parable of the talents can seem harsh and unfair but it's simply showing us that if we take care of what we are given, the Lord will entrust us with more.
Whose garden is this? It's all His! What weeds do you need to pull and what flowers need watered?
Her little poem is now framed and hanging in the house to remind me. Life is so short. Tend to it well.
P.S. We restored the hardwood floors where we could. As I left last week, I saw this little heart in the floor. I have stared at this floor 1000 times. I'd never seen it before. I think He's pleased.😍
