I love being outdoors. For those of you not living in Florida, we enjoy a 24/7 growing season—which means there’s always something blooming, and always plenty of yard work to do. My father taught me early to keep a yard well-manicured, and it can be quite the challenge from April through October.

My yard might be considered small to most, but to me, it’s a haven—a refuge for me and for the little creatures who share it. Mowing with a push mower gives me both exercise and the perfect time to give thanks: for a gentle breeze, a drifting cloud that offers a moment of shade, and the simple grace of being outdoors. Even an early start at 8:00 a.m., trying to be a courteous neighbor, often finds the day already peaking in the mid-80s.

I name my plants and palms and thank them for participating in this earthly experience. One of my favorites is an African Lily I call Miss Lily, a gift from a dear friend named Coral. She has grown into the size of a small car, as my husband likes to tease, asking what on earth I’ve been feeding her. My answer is always the same: nothing but sun, water, and love.

Miss Lily is magnificent—her big spider-like blooms are delicately scented, opening between October and December, just before the first frost. She’s more than a plant; she’s a sanctuary. Frogs, lizards, and insects call her home. One morning, while watering her with a fine mist, I discovered hundreds of tiny bright green frogs hopping joyfully within her eight-foot leaves. It was a sight to behold—pure magic.

Sometimes, as I trim around her base, I find a quiet little rider clinging to my hat or hiding in a pocket. I always return them gently to their leafy haven and give thanks for the shared connection of life.

Time in my yard is sacred. Often, I lift the hose overhead and let the water fall like a blessing, repeating a simple prayer:
“Let every drop of water wash the negativity from my soul, back to the ground to cleanse. And may the Light of the Christ fill my body, that I may be an extension of Light.”

Archangel Gabriel once said to me, “When you become one with everything, your journey is complete.” I believe that’s what happens in the garden—where love, nature, and spirit intertwine as one.