Buddha’s Secret Army

When a house is built on a grassland hill to lure retirement and holiday property investments (golf membership thrown in, and a “vineyard to age gracefully in” and what a view) and then the economy goes sour and the investment is a dead loss and the house is used for only a few weekends a year, who keeps the money and the dream safe when there’s no one home?

Concrete Buddha with Tumble Mustard, Untrimmed Box, and his Private Army

Good to know.

No wonder the Buddha laughs so much.

2 replies »

    • I was awfully surprised to see Buddha there, too, but he’s doing good work, I think. Maybe not with the house, but the boxwood, way out of its climate zone, has come through the winter with all its leaves intact. The sad, though, yeah. I’m with you. I remember, always, what the poet Ralph Gustafson said, that what a delightful world it would be if Christ and Buddha could laugh more, bent double, splitting their sides. Maybe they are, as a kind of holy dance of joy and renewal.


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