Sunday, September 22, 2013

Cotton Lace, Building and Uprooting


The last of the blossoms are clinging among tiny leaves on the trees.
When I was small, I thought they were just for me. 
In my life, I have sometimes not been able to see the small beauty
Of the seasons, of the life that surrounds me.
Not notice the helping hands when they are offered. 
I am grateful that I now keenly see these blessings
In all seasons, 
That my eyes alight
                                On a drop of water, 
                                                               a pod, 
                                                                          a seed,
                                                                                       ...a new leaf
                                                                                     
                            

The sheen of a most marvelous Wyendotte rooster.


 
Tomorrow I up sticks
           Watch my sister graduate...
                                        so proud!
Then celebrate a birth soon to come, and then still, another birthday
With paints and brushes, needles and threads, scissors and silk, I will go. 
To Melbourne
To make with others for a week. 
A present to myself. 
In dye and stitch, stencil and stain.




I trade the little smoke for the big, 
                                                     In order to play for a fortnight, 
And relieved myself of all cooking and washing up!
                                                                                In exchange for dirty fingers and happy thoughts.



But how the garden grows this time of year, 
                                                                   Borscht in the making,
                                                                                                      Pickles in process
I look forward to the growth I will see when I return.


And this, beautiful bird, found on a walk.
Sadly, with its tail cut, 
                                  Unhappy baby maggie. 
I have sent it to be well taken care of, 
After feeding some worms and a night in a box. 
I shall miss him, 
Even though this encounter was short.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Oh, September Winds

 I will be like the lichen
                                      And cling to the rock, 
no matter the season.
                                   Achieve my symbiosis with the pathogens,
                                                                                                     Change my colours, 
                                                                                                                                    Bear the season, 
                                                                                                                                                                Grow my lace....

As the soil heats and the bulbs burst forth, flag irises, spider lilies, bluebells, hyacinth, lily of the valley....
                                                                          and some of my own division, 
                                     With striped and beaded cap, 
                                                                                    and thick skin;
                           endemic, weeping,evergreen,
                                                                          with tiny pom-pom adornments,
                                                                                                                            silver-green, lime and lemon;
                                        with double cream skirt
                                                                             and pointed spring-green blossom caps for shoes....
  

And all of us together, Fae, Indigenous and introduced, stir at these hot September winds. 
We put forth flower and fruit, 
                                              growth and a show of strength
                                                                                               build homes for the Rosellas and King Parrots, the Choughs and the Maggies.
 
We break the hot winds and searing sun, that those Winter vegetables
                                                                                                             Might pass a few more weeks of cool mornings before setting seed
And meeting cooking pot, and seed store, and dye-lot, and compost.
                                                                                      

And the Japanese greens show a stunning purple in the sun, before bolting to yellow flowers.

The soil heats, 
                        and asparagus ignored for two seasons grows
                                                                                               eight inches in the night.... 

And is snapped off in early morning, and eaten raw from where their stems break the earth. 
                                                                                                                                             Glorious water brings a crop for tomorrow.
                             

In Orchard News, 
                             Bees and blossoms abound
                                                                        and September winds 
                                                                                                            cause a light snow of petals - from whitest white to hottest pink
 

 

And while driving, I think of all the places I will go these next few months.
                                                                                                                    Wishing for slow road trips,
                                                                                                                                                               full of swags and cigarettes.
                                                                                      



And the ends of the sunsets appear as watercolour and ink
                                                                                            and make me smile. 
                                                          
Because at this time of year, I never know how the wind blows, or what new growth I will notice in one day, or why it smells of rain when the sky is clear. I appreciate the smell of water as it hits the micorrhizal fungi under lawns. The slight burn of the sun on my shoulders after a morning's weeding, the wildflowers collected on the short walk to a friend's house.

As this girl's life seems to get only busier and more complicated, this season provides opportunities for reflection at every turn. 

A return to the outside table, to rose tea in the sun, gingham table cloths and daisies and a will to own a hammock. 

Pina Coladas for breakfast, and Selah Sue on the stereo. Bring the heat.