


Images from other people’s gardens, sadly, though I when I learn to download from my phone, I’ll upload mine.
Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires
Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art
| Daniel Gabriel Rossetti |
1 “For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. 2 He agreed to pay them a denarius for the day and sent them into his vineyard.
| Daniel Gabriel Rossetti |
1 “For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. 2 He agreed to pay them a denarius for the day and sent them into his vineyard.
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| H/t Asbo Jesus |
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| Irene, I and the Sphinx, Vatican Museums. O Sphinx, reveal your secrets! My father, though shy, was a highly original character. He loved anything sweet. When we went out to a buffet, or at a wedding for instance, he first ate dessert, filling his plate with cheesecake, black forest cake, trifle, Indian sweets, ice-cream. Then, if he was still hungry, but had his taste buds satiated by sugar, he would have some meat. Vegetables, he had a fine disdain for.
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Gardening was one of the biggest passions of our lives for the last seven years that we lived in America, and had a half acre garden, this . We planted thousands of bulbs (literally), a dozen fruit trees, dozens of hellebores, shade-loving plants, perennials. I used to know a lot about all sorts of plants, and hopefully still do.
And when we moved to England after 17 years in America, one of the top things in my wish list was a big garden. I was praying for an acre. We landed up buying a house with an acre and a half of garden. Though the house was charming
it was the limitless potential of the garden which got me
See what I mean?
I more or less decided to buy the house before we entered it. The salesman never had an easier sale.
However, an acre and a half has proved to be a lot more work than half an acre. Duh! And it has proved overwhelming to us, and it makes us sad that we’re always so behind, because we love beauty, we love gardening, we love plants, we love watching things grow, we love being out of doors, and we love the sound of the birds.
And because it was rapidly became overwhelming, I found myself going out to garden less and less often while it became like Sleeping Beauty’s forest.
For instance, I went out to garden this Sunday, after um… um…. more months than I care to remember.
* * *
In America, the garden was our family’s life. We would go out there as soon as the children came home from school and often spend three or even four hours there. There were dozens of little flower beds, we had a pond, fruit trees, swings, slides, a tree house, a rope ladder, a sand pit, a climbing frame, a fountain, bird houses and feeders, hummingbird feeders, a hammock, an outdoor wendy house, lots of stuff for the girls and their friends to amuse themselves with. Smiling sun shaped bird houses, little terra cotta animals, wind chimes. It was magical. I would lose track of time, pray, forget my sorrows, such as they were.
Now, when I go out, there are so many things I am behind with, so many Honey Do’s for Roy who is stronger and fitter, but who doesn’t like “being bossed,” that it all gets rather stressful. So, over the last five years we’ve gardened in fits and starts which isn’t the way to garden, or do anything else.
* * *
But this time, I am going to persevere with gardening. I am making a little trail for myself, going from bed to bed, weeding, pruning… I don’t get the bed perfect, just a whole lot better, and then, next day, have another savage bash at it. Am getting to more beds each day.
“Little and often” is the best gardening motto that I have heard.
* * *
If there is a fountain of youth, I wonder if it is gardening? It keeps you supple, slightly stronger, and it is great for mental health to rest the mind, breathe fresh air, and listen to the birds. To bend double to the ground. To notice the rhythms of the earth.
I wonder why people stop gardening as they age. Maybe, they never get themselves out after a savage winter. After all, I went out for the first time on March 6th. Maybe, they are uncertain on their feet after a fall.
I had a traumatic fall in Costa Rica in 2003, which was misdiagnosed there as a break. The doctor didn’t speak English, nor I Spanish. My leg was in a cast, and I flew back early to the States in a wheelchair. Once I got to see a doctor–the fall was on Christmas Eve– it turned out that it was a savage sprain, not a break, and putting it in a cast was the very worst thing to do.
The ankle is still weak, and I have never been quite as confident hiking up mountains with the kids, or on icy roads or slushy paths. That’s how aging works. And I am still in my forties!!
Psalm 18:36 “You broaden the path beneath me, so that my ankles do not turn.” I pray this heart-feltly whenever I come across it. I have never broken a bone, and pray never to. I also pray never to sprain my ankle again, since my recovery was so slow and imperfect.
On the other hand, there are uses to walking with a limp. Ask Jacob!


restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
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Ash Wednesday
T.S. Eliot Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope to know Because I know that time is always time And pray to God to have mercy upon us Because these wings are no longer wings to fly Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death II Lady of silences Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining III At the first turning of the second stair At the second turning of the second stair At the first turning of the third stair Lord, I am not worthy but speak the word only. IV Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand Here are the years that walk between, bearing White light folded, sheathing about her, folded. The silent sister veiled in white and blue But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew And after this our exile V O my people, what have I done unto thee. Where shall the word be found, where will the word Will the veiled sister pray for O my people, what have I done unto thee. Will the veiled sister between the slender O my people. VI Wavering between the profit and the loss And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices This is the time of tension between dying and birth Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the And let my cry come unto Thee. Ash Wednesday |
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