Lessons from the garden

 I’m not the world’s greatest gardener but you would never know that from my photos. I tend to zoom in on the good bits, the pretty flowers, or a bowl of ripe home-grown strawberries.

There’s seems to be a lack of bright colours at the moment, just shades of green. Something has eaten the flowers I planted the other week.

But I did take a few photos yesterday and created a collage to share on Facebook.

My dwarf beans were beginning to flower – young plants full of potential.

Alas when I looked today, they are mostly covered in slug slime – not sure I’ll even have enough for one meal when they are ready to harvest.

Then there is my climbing rose by the back door. Perhaps it is past its best for this summer, strewn petals have littered the ground, dead heads have been plucked and binned. The solitary rose that is left looks magnificent and so is the delicate fragrance.

Sadly today it looks more forlorn and crispy round the edges. I’m glad I took a photo yesterday.

One thing is the same today as yesterday, not ravaged by heat or rain. The allium seed head is quite magnificent. It was even more spectacular covered in multitudes of deep purple flowers a month ago. Particularly when sprinkled with sparkling rain drops. However, it remains elegant in this final season. Worthy of being photographed.

 As I ponder the plants in my garden and the stages they are at, I compare them to my own life.

I am hardly a young bean anymore – a has-bean maybe?

I don’t think I’ve quite reached the seed head stage.

Perhaps I am most like the rose bush, still blooming, pushing out a burst of colour every now and then.

 

Then I remember the passage from Ecclesiastes chapter 3

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

 … and I remember that Jesus told stories about seeds and plants and growing things.

As ever there is much to ponder in the garden, and maybe a few too many weeds to pull up. I grab a handful, throw them in the bin and come inside to write this, considering my words to be like rose petals, beautifully layered causing you to stop and wonder.

Languishing - is it all a load of Blah?

 

I’ve learnt a new word, well maybe not exactly new but a new meaning, recycled and repurposed for the times we live in.

languishing adjective

failing to make progress or be successful.

 

Interestingly I never thought it had such negative connotations until just now when I googled the definition. I see it more as lazing by a deep blue pool sparkling in the sunlight or a woollen jumper languishing at the bottom of the washing basket waiting for a careful handwash. There’s some kind of luxury to the word as it richly flows off the tongue.

Let’s keep hold of the positive, glass half full strands as we dive into something a little murkier….

the seemingly never-ending pandemic!

I came across the word “languishing” by chance scrolling through Facebook, as I stumble across most things these days. It was an article published in the New York Times

There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s Called Languishing

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/04/19/well/mind/covid-mental-health-languishing.html

Well I can certainly relate to the “blah” feeling so I clicked and read further and you can read it too by clicking on the above link, but here are my own thoughts with some pretty pictures…

Languishing is described as the middle child of mental health somewhere in the no man’s land between depression and thriving.

It seems to be where a lot of us are at just now, we survived 2020 and had high hopes for 2021, after all the roadmap appears to be on course and life is getting back to some sense of “normality”.

But I know from talking to people that there just isn’t as much sparkle in the world at the moment, particularly for those of us who are extroverts by nature, who usually thrive on company and interaction with others. We’ve retreated so far into our comfortable shells that even the idea of poking our heads out is agonisingly daunting.

Let’s just lie on the sofa and binge watch some more Netflix until all of this goes away and if it doesn’t let’s just binge watch some more – languishing in the cosiness of the familiar.

And that’s OK, we’re not really depressed.

I have some experience of depression; I’m still taking a tiny tablet each day to keep me balanced and Andrew had bad depression that cast a long black shadow over family life for many years. This is certainly different.

But we are stuck, and I keep saying “we” because I know this applies to others. We are just not thriving as we might do in better times.

The garden this year offers an interesting illustration.

 Compare last year's vibrant blooms...

...with this year's tight buds and reluctantly unfurling lily

photos taken exactly a year apart of the same plants.

Last year we had a very sunny spring, both warmer and wetter, much more conducive for plants flourishing in the garden.

And we desperately needed the sunshine last year as we began to grapple with the very first lockdown and the idea of staying at home to save lives. We were, maybe not filled with enthusiasm but at least we seemed to have more purpose and resolve to achieve things.

Sadly, the pandemic is no longer a novelty, in the sense of being new rather than a frivolous bauble (oh how rich our language is?). We are a bit bored now and even if we know there is light at the end of the tunnel with vaccinations and tumbling figures over here, we can see the virus still raging out of control in other parts of the world. It will impact all our lives for a very long time, maybe forever.

So how do we flourish again?

Maybe we need to go back in the garden, the daffodils are shrivelled and well past their best, some tulips sadly droop, other plants have died in this dry weather.

However, there is resilience, buds are appearing with new growth, good things are around the corner. And some plants that haven’t blossomed this year may get another chance, there’s always next spring.

One thing I know for sure from experiencing early widowhood, being a single parent and surviving cancer is that you can bounce back.

It would be flippant to say you ALWAYS do, maybe you don’t bounce so high, hard knock chip off some sparkle and you have battle-scars.

But just like that real wool jumper languishing at the bottom of the wash basket, with some tender care and attention you can be revived.

An Epiphany – or something

 

I want to write something profound

WORDS to share around

For you to wonder at my wisdom

Ponder at my imparting

New Years bring new hopes, new dreams

And yet it seems

We are still mired in the old

Can’t shake off the cold

It’s crept into our very bones

We shut the doors and hibernate at home

 

I want to write something hopeful

WORDS to cling to

Find a new tune to sing to

But January is dark navy blue

The colour of school uniforms, night and deep space

Going on forever

Growing blacker

Drifting further

 

I need to write something cheery

WORDS to impress

Like a new designer dress

As simply stunning as a snowdrop

Perhaps overlooked

Often under-trodden

A light bright gift of hope – an epiphany

If you know where to look.

Winter Snowdrop

I seem to be writing mostly poems at the moment and today is no exception as I've been inspired by an old blog post about spying my first snowdrop.

I miss the snowdrops from the old garden, there are some bulbs planted here but as I put them in quite late in the year I'm still waiting and hoping they will appear at just the right time when I'm feeling low and in need of some cheer.

This time of year is bittersweet, in many ways winter is only just beginning, January and February can be so cold and relentless. However we've also just turned over a calendar for a new year, full of fresh possibilities.

Happy New Chapter...


Winter                 Snowdrop

Winter waits

icy tentacles

unbidden chill

freezing hearts     Timid snowdrop

                             fresh shoot

                             welcome arrival

                             pleasing hearts

Winter sunshine

fool’s gold

dazzling low

no thaw imparts    Defiant snowdrop

                             hidden jewel

                             earth awakens

                             new hope sparks

1st September

I can’t believe it’s already September! Where has this year gone?

Oh yes it was stolen from me by cancer and chemo, all my hopes and dreams, all I planned to do when I moved, new adventures, possibilities, travel and maybe even some romance!

Don’t I deserve it?

Well life is never fair and I am far too much of an optimist to be bitter.

There were times when I wasn’t so positive, after my initial diagnosis I pondered how my life could be curtailed early and all I would miss and leave behind. Especially when I was feeling so ill I almost wished it was the end.

But since chemo started, with each one ticked off my hope began to expand like air filling a balloon, breath by breath.

And now chemo is over, there’s no picc line sticking out of my arm – yipppeee!

Then last week I saw the consultant and he had my scan results – everything clear, I’m cancer free!

To be honest it was a bit of an anti-climax, it was after all what I expected. The operation got rid of all the nasty stuff, chemo was belt and braces.

So now September arrives full of new possibilities and beginnings as it always has. New things are always stirring as the autumn leaves start swirling on the wind, kids prepare to go back to school, or in my case now back to uni and this is finally MY time! 

A time of change as you can see in the garden with some plants wilting and dying in the heat of summerdays

Meanwhile my clematis has new flowers, 

the fuscia is still adorned with jewel coloured flowers and I've spotted new buds on the geranium.

It might feel like some time has been taken from me but perhaps there is a purpose, I’ve had time to consider what sort of volunteering I want to be involved in now I've moved, to really consider my options rather than rushing headlong into something.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am called to write, I need to make time for that, it has to be a priority. No more excuses and hopefully not too many distractions.

I want to travel and I would like some romance…. But I’ll consider that another day.

God has promised “I, the Lord your God will make up for the losses caused by those swarms and swarms of locusts.” Joel 2:25

I translate that as the first swarm taking my husband and second swarm part of my bowel!

I found this prayer  today from Mandy Hale, who goes by the name of The single Woman on Facebook. I guess mostly she is thinking about new relationships beginning and ditching the old ones but I think it can apply to so much more.

I'm making this my September prayer... as I positively step forward into a cancer and chemo free life. 

A January Garden

Squirrels scamper

 bare branches

   Pheasants frolic

       silent snowdrops

Hedgehogs hibernate

 layered leaves

Chaffinches chatter

sombre skies

Buds begin

             awakened adventures

Hope holds             

     expectant