This week I am up in the mountains. At home, my husband is faithfully watering my plants. This morning when I called, he had just finished watering the courtyard. He had lingered for a moment, and he remarked how nice everything looked.
The thought of him there made me smile all day.
Contemplation Garden 
The kiss of the sun for pardon
The song of the bird for mirth
One is nearer God’s heart in the garden
Then anyplace else on Earth.
(I, too, love to stroll in a garden)
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Love the poem. Where is it from?
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I believe the Irish might be credited for this poem. Not exactly sure.
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