A garden’s yield.

… as a man looked out upon a small field next to his home, a thought arose. It was surely a shame to see such fertile valley soil lay fallow so long. As well, he thought of how he could benefit from something to nurture, a “work” to set his hands, heart, and mind upon. In a moment, those two thoughts married into a decision to grow a garden from that field.

And he did.

Mind you, it didn’t happen overnight. It was quite a long, arduous process, for he was but one man alone … with a vision more grand than most would consider … or dare pursue.

But the vision’s grandeur wasn’t seen clearly in that initial moment. There was indeed a “sense” of it, but as he began the process of breaking the ground and digging in, his focus settled more on “a feeling.” It overtook him through the senses and beyond them. The feel of the earth against his skin, the rolling of sweat into his eyes, the smell of “everything” … and the subtle sense he had come home. These were the essence of what he savored each and every moment there.

With the passing of time, bruisings, and wounds he carried on and green appeared … season upon season, blossoms to fruit and flower it came, filling his eyes, his nose, and his spirit. There was food for his table and others. There were flowers offering color and fragrance to land and home, as well as herbs for spice and healing. All gathered and mingled, volunteering in places they felt comfortable, until it began to appear quite natural … as if it was indeed a home.

As was this man’s nature, he didn’t mind sharing. He seldom put his food up and away for a rainy day. It was not unusual for him to carry a morning harvest with him during the course of the day, giving it away as led. And as well, the creatures of the land took their share … as he had not set fences to keep them away.

One day however, it seemed the garden had been ransacked. Far more food and flower had disappeared than was usual, with plants trampled and tumbled about. In time, he discovered there were visitors out-of-keeping with the norm. Concern arose as day by day he saw the garden deteriorate. He found the culprits and attempted to avert their behavior, but to no avail. Their behavior was their norm.

And so, this man decided he had but one choice … to eliminate these overbearing guests.

The process begun, he made mention of his plans to some friends, who themselves had never had or worked a garden. Their opinions though were quite sure. They questioned him, “why can’t you just get along?” They pointed to the “great bounty” of this universe, asking how he could take such a drastic step to “protect” the garden, when in truth it was theirs as much as his.

He stepped back and for a while thought of what had been set before him. He thought about the initial vision that drew him to assist in ushering this garden into being. He thought about the effort expended, though he had indeed reaped a great deal from being its overseer … much beyond the physical. He thought of the smiles and joy brought with food and flowers shared. And then he thought about his visitors’ “needs” …

Perhaps there would indeed be enough for all to carry on. He admitted the garden’s yield was not his own. Did he have a right to “protect” it … and offer it to whom he desired?

In the end, he released his plans and allowed “nature to run its course.” He made some slight changes, adding other foods that might satiate the visitors, keeping them from rooting the garden’s store in whole … but eventually it was all for naught. Their way was to consume all … and they did.

Within a season or so, the garden blended again into the field that once was … aside from smatterings of color that survived the demise. There were moments you could catch the man sitting at his window, looking out upon that field. He was alright I suppose, but he wasn’t the same. His eyes held the look of one who had lost his best friend. But he just couldn’t keep the pace. His efforts seemed to always be swirling the drain. All was created to be taken … which was fine in a sense, but he had little choice as to whom the bounty went anymore.

All in all, he figured that if this was the way it was supposed to be … well, he simply couldn’t continue. As he witnessed the garden’s yield repeatedly plundered, it seemed more than evident to him it had become a foolish waste of energy. His many sweet memories were eventually relinquished to the far recesses of his mind.

And so the vision was fully released.

In short order, the visitors moved on to plunder anew. Not surprising, as this was indeed their nature.

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