Nine weeks on and some light is filtering through the darkness. Just occasionally a glint of sunshine catches a reflection of Aprils past.
He was always early with his planting, eager to awaken his pagan soul with the miracle of Spring in a hanging basket.
Jeannie would always warn him of the dangers of frost, but his excitment at the first glimmer of blue sky would drive him to ignore the most expert advice.
With unbridled passion, oversized bags of compost would be transferred into all manner of containers until hardly a square centimetre of courtyard remained unadorned.
I watch the pandrop hailstones batter last years bulbs. Still they push their way to the surface.
Undaunted, like his spirit throughout cancer's too rapid advance, they just keep coming keep coming up to bloom all over again.
Outside, Alison pays a neighbour's homage to their shared pleasure in gardening. With chilled hand she pulls out choking weeds and winter debris from pots of rainbow primulae and miniature daffodils.
I watch the ice melt in zig-zag tears that trickle down the window pane.
1 comment:
Gardens & gardening are the most amazing healers of all time. Nature never fails to amaze. All the buds that burst forth from trees, shrubs and roses that look completely lifeless and all the plants that force their way thro' to proclaim their beauty even dandelions astonish with their bright yellow sunshine colour. Hopefully not too many more frosts for this year. Fab photo of Cove Harbour on April 4th, how about a photo of one of your paintings for the next Blog! Looking forward to that.
Lots of Love
M & M
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