Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Little Koala Arms

Such adorable little roots.

And no one is more surprised than I am that my plant journey has taken me this way. It was just the way of the wind and so I flew there, in a great big gust of life, and suddenly I’d begun propagating succulents.

What you do is: you take a leaf from the plant and you let it sit in the world to do nothing for a while. The idea is that the wound (where the leaf tore from the plant) dries out and, when it does, you place the leaf on a bed of soil and lightly mist over the coming weeks. That’s when it happens. That’s when the teeny tiny roots appear.

Such adorable little roots.

My little darlings have begun to dig their arms so deep into the soil that, when tugged, they come away with an arm full of soil, clinging like little Koala arms to the soil below.

They remind me of my baby girl. The way she clings to me as I wander about the house, knowing I am her only life line, the one she needs to feed her and grow her perfectly into this big old world.

My succulent babies are the same. They cling to their Mother (Mother Nature) and she breathes them to life as they hold her.

The whole act is a vulnerable one.

Such adorable little roots.

Such achingly tender little Koala arms.

Photo by PrathSnap on Pexels.com
Day 28: Plant Mum forever.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

My Garden Home

If light though the trees is your wish,

it is my wish, too.

If a meadow awash with eerie shadow

calls you,

I am gone.

Already beyond the boxwoods

and sweet peas

of my garden, home.

Day 24. Somewhere over the rainbow.

Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Home On The Wind

And today I built a garden.

I toiled and sweated, pebble by piece.

And today I met my soul again,

today I knew my home.

How blissful to find home on the wind.

How dear to follow the heart

where she leads.

Day 23. Following the sweet windy trail.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

The End Of The Day

I gave my soul to the garden.

I gave her my heart, I gave her my dreams.

And now, I am weary.

So weary,

I am nothing more than this.

But how beautiful it feels to have come.

To have given a piece of my life,

however small.

Here I have left my heart

and searched for yours in advance.

Hello, until tomorrow.

Goodnight,

until the day is sweet and new.

Day Two. Grateful to have met again, so sweetly.

Categories
Life

Giving Back

What did I actually do for others, apart from give them my love? What did I do to help lift their burdens, to help them maximise their true life potential by easing (or helping to expand) life for them in some small, practical way. There were openings and offerings on occasion, of course, but I never did figure out how practical kindness worked when it was outwards facing and flowing.

The practical part was where I tended to get stuck. I’d have a beautiful, heart-warming idea and then I would find some excuse not to follow through. Partly it was because I was (cough: am) a massive procrastinator. More often than not, though, my practical kindness was thwarted by selfishness.

During the time I was separated from my husband — during the very little money part, during the very little time part, during the depression part — I found myself needing to accept the help of others, really for the very first time in my adult life. And, finally, I learned the importance of being there for others.

I did my Pop’s garden, today—I’m ashamed to say, for the first time (usually I’d leave it to my aunties and uncles). But today, I bought the most beautiful statue I could find at the gardening shop, plonked her in the garden bed by the back door, and pruned until a lovely halo of flowers surrounded her soft-grey concrete. Here I was using my kindness and creativity to practically help my most cherished humans. And I knew it was right.

Usually I’d just sit there on family visits, and we’d have tea, and we’d chatter and laugh, and I’d go home feeling beautifully fulfilled and very much loved. Quite selfishly fulfilled, I would say, looking back, now. Today, though, I gave back. And it truly did feel like I had come home.

My Nan was the gardener of the family. She had the softest, kindest heart, with a great big burst of generosity and passion coursing through her soul, and she loved that garden just as much as she loved her family. Roses were her favourite. And now they are mine, probably because they were hers.

So I’m going to make it my mission (well, one of them) to put all my heart and soul into that garden. For my family. Because I love them so dearly, and because they’ve given and given and given to me, in more ways than I’d ever be able to recall.

It’s my turn, now, to give back.

So I will.

Photo by Maksim Goncharenok on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

A Story

It smells like a roast

but it feels like a story

of love,

of a garden,

and of home.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Flight

Her flight

was sweet.

And every bit as magical

as the hummingbird

sipping honeysuckle

beside her.

Categories
Poetry

Garden Of Memories

This bliss springs from gratefulness.

The sweet garden of memories

we planted within

my heart.

Categories
Life

Be A Flower

Have you noticed how flowers open in groups? How certain flowers within the group open first, followed closely by a new lot that, for whatever reason, begin to grow and change at a different time.

But always they open as a group.

This is an important thing, I think.

Within their group, some flowers open together. Some individually. Some die just as the next lot begin to open, but one thing seems as sure as the sun does shine—

Every flower exists to open.

This is the natural way of things, I think.

Humans could learn a lot from flowers. We could learn to let the opening process be what it will be. You cannot stop a flower from opening as it will, and no matter how hard you try…you cannot stop a human from opening as it will, either.

So open as you will. Be a flower.

This will be your gift to the world, I think.

 

 

Categories
A Blog a Day in May

Fairies

Life is too short to dismiss the possibility of fairies.

I’ve never seen one.

And the imposter within me doesn’t even believe.

But I’ll never stop looking.

I’ll never stop pestering my children to look.

And when we find such magical lands as this…

I’ll look harder.

Ps: This is a public garden about twenty minutes from my home. Isn’t it the most beautiful place?

xx Brooke