Everything had come to a stand-still.

It’s like I was living in the wrong hemisphere: just when I had begun to make headway with my garden and was enjoying a short rest, the cold change came and turned it into a field of glistening emeralds and diamonds. Every leaf was made as hard as stone.

No work could be done. The growing gloom smothered all sunshine, hastening on the coming of night. Accompanying it was the discouragement that first chills and stiffens the spirit before continuing its stupefying work on the limbs.

Why did I stop to rest when there was so much more to be done?

I should have known something like this would happen – something that would prevent me from making any more progress, something that would make rest the most unpalatable but inescapable option. I heartily repented of my laziness and waited for the sun’s rays to pierce through the grey.

Sure enough, the clouds began to clear within a few weeks and on one golden morning, I slipped outside and was again greeted by the scent of gardenias.

Everything had come back to life. I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly. Then I brought out my gardening tools, knelt down, and got to work.

6 thoughts on “Stiff

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