Our garden Buddha sits in a sunny alcove, smiling under a canopy of antique rose and buckthorn leaves. Birds serenade him in early morning, and rabbits visit him at twilight. Bumbles and dragonflies buzz around him, spiders knit him into their webs, and sometimes butterflies land on him. There is a steady rain of maple keys, leaf dust and falling needles from the tall evergreens swaying to and fro, way up over his head.
The old guy looks as though he is carved from stone, but he is actually made of some kind of polyresin, and he is rather light, weighing only a pound or two. I discovered him in the window of a thrift shop years ago, purchased him for mere pennies and brought him home where he presides over the leafy enclave behind the little blue house from early April until late October.
No matter what kind of day I am having or how I am feeling, he smiles, and he makes me smile too. That is something beyond price.