Joe Black sings a song, ‘Ons is grond’ (We are soil), which made me think: what if one were to compare oneself — no, one’s heart — to a garden? What sort of garden would a person’s heart be?
Would it be the orderly kind, like Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, with clearly defined pathways for strolling, meticulously manicured lawns where children play, information plaques describing indigenous plant species, and monuments honouring moments of history?
Or would it be more like Newlands Forest — proud, open, and free; alive with visitors and friends, a place that invites exploration? Perhaps like Maynardville Park, child-friendly, echoing with laughter, watched over by age-old trees and guarded by lively geese?
Maybe some hearts are vineyards or wheatfields, steady and abundant. Or perhaps the heart is more like a forest, filled with hidden corners and mysteries — where beauty and shadow coexist, and where, if one listens closely, one might even hear the whispers of monsters in the dark.
Some of us might relate more to a neglected garden, where weeds push stubbornly through cracked cement pathways, the only things that still insist on living.
So, I wonder — if your heart were a garden, what kind of garden would it be?🌱