Zen Jovi

It's April, and we have a vase of lilacs in our living room. They aren't the most beautiful cut flower, but they make the room smell like spring.

We bring quite a few guests from our garden into the house. Some don't stick around very long, like tomatoes. Others, like the lilacs, only last a few days before they get the urge for going. Some things, like the artemesia bunch hanging in the bedroom, remain with us for a month: or a season, like the eucalyptus branches in the bathrooms: or a whole year, like the auspicious limb of white sage on the window sill.

All things have their times, however, and all things pass. Something about them changes. They lose that vital essence that made us bring them into our home.

I guess we could throw them on the compost heap, but that just doesn't feel right somehow. After they stay with us for awhile, they deserve something better, worthier, classier. A touch of ceremony.

Here some old companions go out in a Bon Jovi blaze of glory, compliments of the red clay garden chimney.

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