Archive | November 2012

Starstruck

Starry eyed joy, a Sisyrinchium occupation.

I’ve spent a bit of time over the last two weeks staring out at the view through my french doors. I’ve felt irritated. My body, host to an eclectic blend of bacteria and viruses has kept me housebound  so each time I looked out I’d notice how long the grass had gotten.  Grass –  not lawn you understand – an untidy mix of weeds competing with whatever grassy plants were robust enough to survive.  I desperately wanted them gone; mown, slashed, whatever it took.

Today I felt well enough to go out and reconnect with all the glorious growth that had continued in my absence. I needed to check up as well, we’ve had a good week of Spring rain and some of my beauties don’t appreciate its effect on their countenance. There’s nothing sadder than the blighting of a souvenir de la Malmaison rose after prolonged rain.  So I wandered – pleased to see that apart from some very furry strawberries the garden had weathered the rain pretty well. There were lots of roses and Hemerocallis flowering, their perfumes accompanied me as I wandered. Further down in my wild area I found some new bracken shoots, their tightly clenched velvet fists waving in the breeze. I couldn’t help having to stop and treat myself to a velvet caress. Plenty was running amok, however; I dodged an over-vigourous clump of nettles and contemplated the lawn mower again.  I wandered on, in the full knowledge I wasn’t up to pushing it. I pushed aside a wave of frustration instead and walked on. Then something magical happened – thoughts of lawn mowing were banished from my mind as I saw spread like sapphire confetti the starry blue eyes of Sisyrinchium staring up at me from between the blades of grass. Everywhere  walked now was speckled with these tiny blue flowers; my heart swelled and my body was flooded with gratitude. My previous thoughts of lawn mowing were instantly transformed as I imagined ways to maintain the starry display for as long  as possible. How, I wondered, had these little creatures managed to gain such strength of numbers? I am constantly amazed at these quiet miracles that occur; in the garden.  A blue wave of joy, a gentle occupation warming hearts and enticing bees. A simple pleasure , deeply rewarding.

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Darkness and Ashes

Beauty or Ugliness?

Since my last post life has been a series of days spent living with the loss of my soul garden. All around me the natural world continued to flourish prolifically as I lay in my bed unable to show the least enthusiasm. I was literally prostrated by my inability to change what had happened. Foolishly, I expended a large amount of energy contemplating how to reverse away from the scene, to rewind, to avert my gaze. Such destruction, such ugliness evoked pain & disbelief. My prayers turned to dust in my mouth. Finally I understood; I had no choice but to accept what I felt. This experience of my inner desert, the grittiness of the ashes, the veil of darkness; this was as valid as any other experience. It is a hollowing out; a decimation, yes, and a creation of space felt, at first, like a dark and frightening void.  Slowly, the veil lifted the tiniest bit, allowing me to recognise that facing the ugliness, embracing the ashes was the only option. As I accepted that necessity my body and mind began to relax and I was able to appreciate the quiet spaciousness.  No beauty was present and yet in the letting go there was a welcome peace. I began to imagine the possibilities of a new creation. As I relaxed more into this new beginning I began to wonder what was happening in the outside world. Today I have been back in my garden; after seven days absence I found so much inspiration and once again experienced the joy of being part of the world, in all its beauty and ugliness.