It is hard to find the beginning.

Let’s imagine a seed blows in from the ice-capped north, looking for a gentle place to settle and a drop of rain rolls inland from the warm south sea, tired from its travels high up, ready to drop

The hillside where they meet is home to a myriad of life; insects, fungi, flowers, grasses.

Inhabited by birds and beetles, lizards and butterflies.cats and dogs, even people.

Sometimes wild boar and stone martens.

They all  live in relative harmony.

The creatures revere the omnipresent hills.

All seeing, All knowing.

They dictate when the moon rises and falls, when the sun appears and disappears behind their backs like magic.

It has been this way for thousands of years.

The seed and the raindrop are nobody’s fool and realise it is a good place to stay.

They dance a sultry salsa

to celebrate.

One seed, One raindrop becomes One tall blade of grass that grows higher and higher.

Unable to help itself, it soon flowers. Intricate feathery stigmas flutter in the breeze.

Showing off its exotic anthers and filaments it sways in time to the song of the Golden Oriole.

Soon the grass is exhausted and sinks back to the earth.

Fondly remembering the raindrop that had made it all possible.

It is comforted to know that the garden is a place where new seeds and the smallest of raindrops will always be welcome.

Happy in the knowledge that there is no end without a beginning and no beginning without an end.