Closer to God in a Garden

Today is one of my housework etc days, not one I relish and in my present self-pitying state any excuse to ditch the house for elsewhere, any elsewhere, is welcome.
The bright sunshine lured me out and grabbing some secateurs from the shed off I went on a tour of inpection.  Now for the last couple of years, such inspections have been of the whistle-stop variety, and no attempt to attract my attention, by even the most pitiful, neglected and forlorn-looking plant  has elicited more than a guilty, "I'll get round to you sooner or later".
This morning however, I actually noticed that as well as hundreds of snowdrops and purple and yellow crocus, there are also dozens of hellebores struggling to hold their lovely heads above the all-consuming weeds.  Winter jasmine's yellow stars are shining behind the 2-years growth of rose and hibiscus bushes and simply waiting for help.  A sudden surge of energy, much cutting, some digging (not much), and long-overdue dead-heading has cleared several patches of anxious little faces which are seeing daylight for the first time in their lives.
It was only a whim, and only about an hour's work, but both the garden and I feel better for it.
The same can not be said for my mud-covered jeans and broken finger nails.  A small price to pay for the final tiny silver edge appearing on the black horizon.
The black dog is retreating!