The gardener

Kildare - Saint Fiachra’s Garden [Patron Saint Of Gardeners]

I found the gardener sitting quietly in the grass by a large shade tree. It had been a long day of trimming trees, cutting grass and pruning flowers and the day was coming to an end.

He stared out across his garden. It stretches far beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I can tell his garden is his sacred space and he treats it as such.

He notices me and waves for me to come near.

After a few pleasantries i ask him how long he’s been tending the garden.

“Well,” he began as he wiped the sweat from his brow, “It wasn’t long after the great war that I started here.”

He picked up a fallen rose nearby and gently pulled away the bruised outer petals.

“I didn’t head off to war like many of my friends. It just felt wrong to me.”

He recounted how his friends and family began to distance themselves from him as he tried to make a stand against the violence.

“They called me a traitor and unpatriotic. They said I should stand up against the evil in the world. I argued that that’s exactly what I was doing — but they kept beating the war drums. The politicians, the celebrities, the talking heads — they all called for swift and dramatic vengeance against our enemies. They said it was a just and holy war. There was so much celebration and excitement as the men went off to war.”
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