Perhaps, after all, our best thoughts come when we are alone. It is good to listen, not to voices but to the wind blowing, to the brook running cool over polished stones, to bees drowsy with the weight of pollen. If we attend to the music of the earth, we reach serenity. And then, in some unexplained way, we share it with others.

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A garden is evidence of faith. It links us with all the misty figures of the past who also planted and were nourished by the fruits of their planting.

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We need time to dream, time to remember, and time to reach the infinite. Time to be.

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But in this season it is well to reassert that the hope of mankind rest in faith. As man thinketh, so he is. Nothing much happens unless you believe in it, And believing there is hope for the world Is a way to move toward it.

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