“When a great moment knocks on the door of your life, it is often no louder than the beating of your heart, and it is very easy to miss it. ” ~ Boris Pasternak
Entered we are into the sphere of opportunity. She is that which floats and spirals in unison with paradox and reality. The mind cannot grasp the essence of the knock, but only when the ears hear its sound, and when the eyes glimmer in the light of the spoils to be gained. We forget that the heart knows this place, and sees nothing of spoils. We are born here in this sphere, it is ever changing and lucid of our existence, only we are mute to the sound until awakened by it.
Opportunities are abound in our lives. We see them only as they pass at times. Some are fortunate enough to seize them, others are…
Everywhere around me this morning my eye catches the vibrating reflections of sunlight on water, on spider-web filament, the veil-like wings of bee. It is beautifully warm with a crisp gentle breeze blowing quiet notes in the background. I can barely hear the water as it goes over the falls; only the vibrant movement of the sun’s reflected journey through the rocks tells of its aliveness. There is such stillness today; a feeling of lightness and clarity in the garden. Like the wide held arms of a welcoming Mother she gathers me in.
I sit, the sun warming my face and arms, feeling back in time to all those who sat before me experiencing that same golden kiss. I glory in a visitation from the gentle Mother, her quiet presence a harbinger to new and exciting possibilities. At first I think she has held her breath; but no, there is a gentle, even pulsing. Time slows down, the garden breathes in and out in time with Her breath as she prepares for rest. I know that soon, she will withdraw to her bower; days will shorten further and icy cold will be evidence of her unavailability. She leaves us reminders of her love in the glorious reds and oranges of dying leaves, winter flowering Kniphofias and Agaves; the flames of the hearth in lieu of the rays of the sun. She cares for us even in the darkest days as she incubates the new world, soon to be reborn.
As autumn begins to take up the space left behind by a slowly retreating summer, the fruits of the season are ready for harvest. Today I collected Feijoas from a friend’s orchard. They lie under the trees in rich abundance, their gorgeous scent stimulating memories of previous year’s ingestion.
It has been a pleasant week; lots of sunshine after a heavy and extended, but desperately needed, rain. All of a sudden, the possibility of planting out the many inhabitants of my shade house became a reality. Along with planting out comes the usual removal of plants which have positioned themselves in the ‘wrong’ place. As the primary designer (or so I tell myself) I follow my plan. As Mother Nature is cleverer than me She sometimes positions plants with such superb skill I can only marvel. Other times She likes to play a practical joke! I am fortunate in having kind friends who are happy to ‘rehome’ plants that are in overabundance.
There are the odd few, however, whose reputations have gone before them and I cannot, in good conscience, give them away. I’ve just spent some time in my veggie garden removing Oxalis bulbs, one of my least enjoyed immigrants. It is such a large family and some are terribly well-behaved whilst others are nothing short of hooligans who take over and create hours of weeding work. As I squat digging them out with my trusty Niwashi I wonder what lesson I’m learning from these vigourous/annoying garden overstayers. I keep in mind they were invited here by my gardening ancestors; perhaps it’s unfair to label them so negatively. A little more tolerance and I can see how, in their roundabout way, they keep bringing me back to the veggie garden; my hands returning to the soil, keeping the connection.
Feelings of peace exchange places with annoyance. A nod of thanks to Oxalis and I go back to the house and wash up ready to reward myself for a good days work with the delightful scent and taste of Feijoas.