Bring flowers of the fairest,
Bring flowers of the rarest,
From garden and woodland
And hillside and vale.

This old hymn comes to mind with the arrival of the new season and the simultaneous visible passing of the old season here at St. Victoria.
As we say thank you for April showers and wait upon the freshness and fragrance of May flowers in garden and woodland and hillside and vale, it is with the anticipation of familiarity.  Because of past experience, we generally know what to expect with a new season.
Yet when the tulips turn their colorful heads and the lilacs send out their sweet perfume, a brand new relationship begins.  That relationship is not unlike the arrival of a new child or grandchild.  It's been expected; it will most likely resemble parents and grandparents, and yet we go on and on as the children sprout new roots and variegated hues as though no one has ever before planted a garden or touched a tulip or inhaled a lilac's perfume.
It's also not unlike the arrival of a new church.  It's been expected, it will most likely resemble architectural drawings, and we anticipate something that is related to the past yet new unto itself.
Our hearts swell as we accept and enjoy gifts that are planted and growing in our lives.  We can't help but become sensitive in soul and spirit to the newness of season and also recall with fondness what has gone before us.

Our full hearts are swelling,
Our glad voices telling
The praise of the loveliest
Flower of the vale.

The garden being featured here has come to be called the "historic" St. Victoria Catholic Church.  This Church Garden has been growing next to the Church Woods, on Church Hill, above the Church Vale.  Oh, did someone say on the shores of Church Lake, too?  Yes, all of the above are correct.
It is interesting to note that the Garden and the nearby Garden Village of Victoria were planted about the same time in the 1850's, roughly 150 years ago.  If one arrived before the other, it's a technicality and doesn't make much difference in the telling of the story.
Up until recent times, it was nearly impossible to separate the Garden from the Garden Village for they were, indeed, conceived as twins.  If one of them had been uprooted, the other would have been pulled up as well, so tight and blessed were the ties that bind.
But as they grew older and adopted more and more flowers with unfamiliar names and tangled roots, a bit of separation resulted.  The Garden that was named after the Village (or was the Village named after the Garden?) no longer identifies itself completely with the loveliest flower of the vale.  Some might call it separation of church and state. 
The Church Garden is now planted and blooming with more than German Hollyhocks and Swiss Petunias and Dutch Tulips.  Today there are a montage of implants like English Ivy and Norwegian Conifers and Irish Shamrocks.  There are now Elephant Ears and Austrian Edelweiss also growing in the midst of the unbounded garden. 
In fact, unlike its history, the Church Garden now blooms with floral and fauna from throughout the states and the world.  A different energy flows in each of them, yet the calling remains to be true …

As long as the bowers
Are radiant with flowers
As long as the azure
Shall keep its bright hue.

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