Down in the Garden
the buttercups bow their heads
nodding in the early june breeze
the sunbeams are stained with green
dancing through the brand-new leaves
and it's good
it's good good good
down in the garden
i've got apple flesh between my teeth
ants criss-crossing over my feet
a happy dog is at my heels
and I know just how god must feel
and it's good
it's good good good
down in the garden
everything that's living will not always be alive
but i won't spend my days grieving for something that hasn't died
sure as mountains turn to gravel, and iron turns to rust
i know my lovely garden will someday turn to dust
how much of this will i get to keep
from underneath the sun's daily sweep?
i will not mourn the sun's retreat
for the light is strong
and the day is deep
and it's good
it's good good good
down in the garden
I've written about my family home before, but heck, you can't write too much about Willowbrae! And now you can actually go stay there yourself and see what a splendid place it is. A farmhouse on a hill, surrounded by maple woods and lilac bushes, horses grazing in apple orchards and border collies sitting at attention waiting to go for a romp, hordes of grandkids mucking around in the barn... Honestly, it's so nice that I can hardly stand it. I was lucky enough to grow up there and now I go back as often as I can afford the gas. This song was written probably in June of 2012, right before I got married.
Like all my songs, even the happiest ones, I manage to give a nod to the Grim Reaper and his role in the world. There's nothing so pleasant that I can't cram death into it somehow. I've been doing it so long that I now consider it to be my signature move.