Meadow Flowers - glass panel art by Stephanie Bowen, 2019 |
Girl in a Field with Red Poppies - by Frank Buchser, 1878 |
Meadow Flowers - glass panel art by Stephanie Bowen, 2019 |
Girl in a Field with Red Poppies - by Frank Buchser, 1878 |
The garden is looking sorry for itself. Chopped down for winter, the three intertwined buddleia are naked sticks protruding from the soil, shorter than the fence. They look dead, but I’m sure I haven’t killed them. I can’t say the same for the annoying bindweed that was wrapped tightly around more branches than I realised. It has disappeared for now. Springtime will see it re-emerge, ready to attack, and once again I’ll be fighting the losing battle of trying to keep it away. I’m considering training it on to some trellis somewhere at the side. It is an attractive plant, just damages other things. We’ll see. The buddleia didn’t flower very well and I didn’t see a single butterfly, though I was away for most of the summer.
I'm not a good gardener, home or away, but I make an effort and do my best. Bulbs are planted for spring. I look forward to daffodils, tulips, irises, grape hyacinths and something I’ve never heard of that looked very pretty on the box. I do this every autumn, full of enthusiasm, expecting to grow the best spring garden ever and the wonderful flowers will compensate for every ache and pain. Something is always lacking – green fingers – so, in all seasons I try to plant things that will flower nicely and look after themselves. A favourite is the Totally Tangerine geum. They come back stronger each year. There are two, in different flower beds. In bloom, one is more stunning than the other. The slightly weaker one was bought when I was feeling cross about someone connected to football and I think it shows, but it doesn’t matter now.
I love to have flowers in the house. Last week I was overwhelmed and delighted to be given beautiful roses including yellow ones for friendship from a lovely friend of many years. She didn’t know this, but things have been tough for me lately. The flowers, with their special significance, really helped to cheer me up.
I always have daffodils in remembrance of my father. When he passed away, his garden path was lines with an abundance of shades of yellow, cream and orange created by an amazing display of various daffodils. It’s nice to see them appear in my garden.
I hope I have success with poppies next year. They always look lovely, but can be so delicate that they don’t last very long.
I’ve chosen two poems,
DaffodilsSpontaneity is not my strong point. I’m more Ms Stayput and keep cautious.
I leave impulsiveness to those with the confidence to either know what they’re
doing, or not care about the outcome because we only live once. That’s fine. I’m
a happy soul with my plans noted on my calendar, allowing for plenty of rest
time between events. By events, I really mean appointments and regular weekly
or monthly meetings. I have a visit to the dentist coming up and as the surgery
is in town, it might be tempting to pop to M & S or the Hound’s Hill for a
bit of Christmas shopping. That could be classed as spontaneity for me, I
suppose.
The weekend before last, we had a few days away in our caravan, planned, of course. We met up with family for some relaxing time together, which it was. Disappointingly, the pub within walking distance no longer serves food, so we all managed with our own supplies and looked for somewhere further afield for the next day. A lovely hotel in nearby Lockerbie provided the answer, with its fabulous restaurant open to non-residents. This was probably the last time we’ll get out in the caravan this year. The chilly autumn nights and dark tea-times have no appeal to me, regardless of how beautiful the view across a loch might be from the caravan window. Never say never, though, someone might have an impulse to squeeze one more trip in. It won’t be me. We’ll be cosy in our favourite lodge in Dumfries & Galloway soon and I am happy to wait for that.
During this week, there was a moment when a decision was made that could, from my point of view, be a spontaneous thing. Christmas Day has always been at home and over the years the family has expanded, which is wonderful. The family is my world, but Christmas can be hard work for me, so, giving everyone plenty of notice, we told everyone that we’re not hosting Christmas Day this year, but we will arrange a family buffet between Christmas and New Year. We hadn’t made plans for ourselves until The Corner Flag popped up on Blackpool FC Hotel festivities. Spontaneity stepped in. Sorted.
I found this poem by Bryan Wallace on Poem Hunter and thought it apt for me,
Diary with a little pencil stuck in spine-
Each day planned with metronomic precision.
Nothing left to chance at all - can't take the risk.
Plan each day and leave nothing at all to chance.
Run our lives like a well-oiled machine.
Think to the future - pension plans and
Rainy day saving funds - we best be prepared.
Each think carefully planned - no nasty surprises -
It is the best way - we are told.
But what if we leave life to chance, to allow
Room for at least a little bit of spontaneity?
To allow space to have a little fun
When un-expected opportunity should arise?
To enjoy the chance encounters with the people
That we meet as we travel along life's highway.
To take the opportunity to kick the stray football
Back tot he kids playing in the park.
To enjoy the random things which happen -
When we allow ourselves to live in the moment
And not at some point in the future -
Planning for some disaster that most probably
Will never happen!
Bryan Wallace
Thanks for reading, Pam x
Vincent Van Gogh's rendition of a French restaurant, 1887 |
Alex's Restaurant, Aghios Georgios, Corfu, 2024 |