It’s a curious thing, keeping ordinary time these last two years. In some respects everything is very ordinary. We don’t leave our homes very much; each day feels much like the previous one; we see the same people, the same walls, the same garden beds. Yet in other ways nothing is ordinary. We long forContinue reading “Ordinary Wednesday: The New Ordinary?”
“Dada! Find wiggly-woo!” the twins cry,exultant at the chance to dig fingers in earthand find its inhabitants in their hands. And so, on my lunch break, I fossickin our newly dug garden bed,each patch of earth yielding a companion for these delighted fingers,and I store the moment like compostto ferment within, to wriggle me alive.
Every Lent for the past six years I have gone off Facebook. It began the year I got married, with our wedding one week out from Easter, and was a powerful way for me to detox spiritually as I prepared for this new life. I found it so refreshing that I’ve actually looked forward toContinue reading “Why I’m staying on Facebook for Lent”
In Winter’s garden bed I saw you,plucky yet tentative,white bursting but drooping at the stem,head bowed in humble prayer,hopeful of the day to come,whispering its name.
Meanwhile, pluck tomatoesripe from the garden.Watch the quinces shed their fur,turn late-summer-yellow,and burst with promise whilecockatoos eye them off.Check the peaches.See the opening flowers on the lemon tree.Cut the roses, deck the table.Water, plant and wait.Number days and count the joysand trust that tears shall cease.
Early evening, cool of day, we walk in the garden to find evergreen branches to weave a wreath of hope. My son is distracted. Not tall enough to reach with me, he stands to watch but soon decides instead to help pile the compost heap with grass. Evergreen and humus: these symbols arrest as IContinue reading “Advent 1: Pine”
Gather your spiritual bouquet… (Francis de Sales) Plenteous winter rain left the backyard a grassy forest where mallow and clover ran riot and kikuyu spread its runners wide. The rhizomatic tangle, lush and unbeatable, enfolded in itself a toddler’s trucks, a sandpit shovel, a bouncy ball, a peg, and I, bent on order yet atContinue reading “My own garden I have neglected”
A devout gardener, my eldest comes out hereeach day, to inspect, to water.Sometimes he waters the concrete, sometimesthe soil. Most of itis sapped up by unseasonal sun,some soaks in. Butas we persist, he and I, we seethis transformation, likea renewing mind: creeper grassstretching outgreen tendrils into a former wastelandand I am mindful to watchthe miracleContinue reading “Miracles of Grass”
I for one enjoy it: the slow, steady bursting from soil, those optimistic points of green poking sunward, the outward spread of tiny tufts, the promise of patience rewarded. And so daily I take my little son outside to see the garden, to “check on the grass”. All moments are wonders to him, yet IContinue reading “Watching Grass Grow”
For now, where do we live? These streets are made for walking: quiet, reflective, built atop a hill where the cityscape sinks beneath a thoughtful gaze. No walls to be broken, no walls to repair; watered gardens greet the roaming eye, and here an expectant couple waits at the edge of the evening street. FruitContinue reading “Streets to Live In (Glenroy Lent #4)”