"Friends are flowers in a life's garden."
Puh-lease.
"No two days are the same in one garden."
This one is palatable, as is this one: "No two gardens are the same." Both are very true, empirically speaking.
"You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt" resonates, while "the flowers of tomorrow are the seeds of today" nauseates.
And "gardening is a way of showing you believe in tomorrow" just makes me want to hurl.
Separately, one can overlook (er, ignore) them (as I have done), but together, they constitute a veritable menagerie of the most unattractive cutesy kitsch.
But then I began to think of other garden- or agricultural-inspired aphorisms.
"We make our own beds, and we must lie in them."
"We reap what we sow."
"Even the most beautiful roses have thorns."
We populate our lives with adages, "old wives' tales," aphorisms, and proverbs. Their veracity is reified and magnified by an economy of words; their effects are seemingly more damning if we neglect their wisdom.
Pithiness in the world of adages is empowerment; wisdom trickles, then oozes, from the spoken word.
A parallel phenomenon happens in the garden at this time of year. Amidst the clutter of fallen leaves stand poignant reminders of the mix of seasons and the dominance of an emerging chill that lays to rest all that has lived.
The camellia blooms while the mums retreat, and the berries of Nandina sharpen in fiery intensity, signalling a transition to barren fulfillment.
{Please note: I have exceeded the photo storage capacity of Blogger and therefore cannot post additional photos.}