The gap between Easter and Advent has seemed especially long this year. Perhaps this is because of the discipline I’ve undertaken of writing a weekly reflection throughout all of Ordinary Time, perhaps the slow drag of lockdown. But this year I have felt every week of Ordinary Time as though it should be over andContinue reading “Ordinary Wednesday: Waiting for fruit”
Tag Archives: gardening
For all your unwritten poems
This one has a stone wall that you saw driving north at sunrise on your last day at work. You thought, “I’ll write a poem about that”, but by sunset it was lockdown again and you went home to stay home. No poem. This one has a glimpse you caught of your face reflected inContinue reading “For all your unwritten poems”
Ordinary Wednesday: Natural Theology for Pre-Schoolers
This is a conversation I had with E, my nearly four-year-old, at breakfast yesterday, about why the porridge was not ready yet, even though he was yelling at it and telling it that he wanted it to be ready. Me: It’s like in Basil and the Branch [a kids’ book that he loves about aContinue reading “Ordinary Wednesday: Natural Theology for Pre-Schoolers”
Advent 14: Last Things
You shall turn again to earth.(Christina Rossetti, “For Advent”) Before leaving for our new home, we takethe last year’s compost and distributerich, fermenting soil across our garden bed,while lawn – parched from summer – longs weakly for green.I too am parched and thoughmade of mud I cannot rest in dirtuntil the heat is passed.And soContinue reading “Advent 14: Last Things”
Sabbath
This afternoon, though I’d planneda much-needed rest, many tasks overtook andsomewhere amidst assembling IKEA furniture I foundthe afternoon gone and dusk charcoaling the sky,so instead I walkedmy toddler to the compost heap and therewe shredded paper scraps to balance the mixand pulled weeds from the side garden whilemy son trialled his latest words and declaredContinue reading “Sabbath”
Meditation
If it had roots, the pulling-out would be easy, but, being rhizome, it tangles its way far, far out, as though sending emissaries, ambassadors; but which way do they travel? Do they depart or return? The beginning hides sneekily under soil, like a power-line, a waterpipe, some subterranean transport network, while the visible growth burstsContinue reading “Meditation”
The Consolations of Writing 