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« Reality | Main | April in Calgary »

April 22, 2008


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Karen Cain

My Dear Trudy, It is wonderful to read about another gardener, in another garden doing what I am doing. In fact, what I just came into the studio from doing - doing all day. Gardening is like life, you just go from one thing to the next. The garden nurtures me and is my teacher. When I pass by your altar, I see the buddha holding a black heart shaped stone, written in gold is the word BLISS. This helps me remember that following my bliss is not rushing to the next entertainment to be 'blissed', but is rather using each experience in my life, the bad news telephone call, the unexpected illness,etc as 'bliss' Always remembering with each thought we create our world.

Lydia Nahold

Dearest Trudy,
a little finch in my lilac bush, (that would love to start blossoming as soon as the West Coast Spring will turn warmer), has been singing since early morning and is still doing so!
Am sending you his song, am sending you my love, am grateful for yours and Gottfried's friendship of so many years!

Patricia Ryan Madson

I love this post! Yes, a garden is both a metaphor and a reality. Some days all I can see is weeds and plants on their way out . . . some days . . . new birth. Thanks for recommending the book.

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