We were back at the farm on the weekend, home for the 50th birthday of a dear friend who has been diagnosed with leukaemia this year. She is now in remission thanks to a successful transplant of bone marrow donated by one of her four brothers. It was a great party. There were tears, but an overwhelming sense of gratitude that she is still with us and able to celebrate a momentous birthday.
As is often my habit when life is confronting, I took some time out to wander in the garden and be thankful.
The Manchurian pears were flowering gloriously ...
... and were just at that magical point where the petals were dropping gently and silently like snow in the breeze, leaving a beautiful white carpet on the paths. I'm thankful that I stopped to notice - it was breathtakingly lovely!
The arum lilies were their usual elegant and serene selves, their peace disturbed only by the furious buzzing of a million busy bees!
You don't need to read my blog for long before you'll realise the passion I have for my garden. If you missed my farm garden tour a little while ago, you can find it in instalments here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.
One of my very favourite songs is 'Fourth Floor' by The Waifs. While I am blessed with a large garden these days, my gardening started in pots on a balcony in a tiny flat in the middle of Sydney. This song perfectly describes the passion for me, whether your garden is big or small!
Fourth Floor
On the fourth floor of the building
In a shallow window box
She’s digging in the soil with a silver spoon
Her hands inside rubber gloves
Planting seeds pulling out weeds
The cycle of life is complete
Who would’ve thought it in a city of stone
Four floors above the street
I cannot tell what kind of flowers they are
I’m too far below on the street
But the colour they add to the building so drab
Brings a warm splash of welcome relief
Something worthwhile for the sun to shine on
A reason to radiate heat
Well that small window box puts a skip in my feet
Four floors below on the street
For every good seed she plants in the soil
There’s a dozen bad waiting to grow
To strangle the goodness she’s trying to nurture
And kill all the seed that she’s sown
Every time you water the garden you also water the weeds
A profound illustration of sin and temptation
Four floors above the street
Some people don’t understand why she does it
Some people look for a reason
Maybe she just likes the feel of the soil
Or keeping in tune with the seasons
Maybe she has so much pride in herself
Got to keep it all visually pleasing
A small paradise in a world of concrete
Four floors above the street
A small paradise in a world of concrete
A small paradise in a world of concrete
A small paradise in a world of concrete
Four floors above the street
