This tiny Buddha is tucked into a large chunk of limerock that sits at the edge of a path leading to my garden. On occasion his peace is disturbed by some nocturnal creature that dislodges him in search of insects or snails. Some mornings I will find him overturned, or sitting a few inches away from his limerock perch. I simply tuck him back into the natural cavity in the rock, which is almost a perfect fit for the small clay statue (because of his size I suspect he was intended to sit at the base of a bonsai tree).
Gardening is not without disappointment or heartbreak. Large trees hang over three sides of my house and garden, and I have come to expect tree branches will fall in exactly the spots where they can do the most harm. I have a beautiful Swamp Dogwood tree (Cornus foemina) that once had two trunks that arched gracefully in opposite directions. During a particularly violent thunderstorm a huge branch from an overhanging oak came crashing down onto the little tree. One of the trunks was badly damaged and had to be removed. The tree survived and has since sent up several new shoots, but it lost the symmetry that made it so special.
The little Buddha reminds me of the impermanence of all things - gardens are certainly no exception.
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