I have a secret garden - surrounded by stone walls where I grow that which makes me happy - and none come within the walls unless I let them. The soil is fertile - the plant life diverse and upon these wooded paths my naked feet daily tread.

Today, something came and stole up from the soil my winter planting, pulled up from the roots like the hands of a child would and left them dying. I gathered them in, replanted what could be salvaged and signed a deep sigh - this is the life of a gardener - this is the life of the heart - despite secret walls, despite good counsel - there are casualties - there is a war going on in my heart for that sacred ground - who will inhabit it and who is not to be trusted.

It is not a simple affair.

Sometimes those you let in are precisely the ones who leave their mark - pull you to pieces because you let them. And then others you keep out - the constant gardener who should be trusted - should be let in to heal that which has been broken - to tend the most tender places.

So, the garden heart of my life comes toward Spring - and there will be more casualties I’m sure, but also more trustworthy companions who will help with the collateral damage that is life.