Monday April 2nd

Outside in our small garden, the cherry tree blossom is swelling and just about to burst. We've loved this place, created from the remnants of a builders yard. It began with a meagre patch of tired old grass and now, seven years later the designer's intentions have come to life in ways we couldn't have imagined.


There is a pergola, soon to be covered by a gorgeous wisteria; a massive smoke tree which to all intents and purposes looks as if its completely dead after having been pruned; a pond and to the right, a splendid pair of Japanese Maples.


The other night we heard the cautious sounds of our frog in the dark! A barely audible croak coming up from the ferns beside the pond.


This time of year is frantic for the birds. Our tame blackbird Sooty comes down every morning and sits on the door handle to the conservatory. His partner scoots down within seconds of the food being presented and a set of sparrows, a robin and several blue tits join the feast. 


The light is just coming up over the East as I write and, far overhead, silver-white contrails are lit up like fireworks.
Judy and I are together in the conservatory, nursing a splendid mug of coffee as we wait for the sun to rise.


Nicholas

It seems we both have the garden on our mind this morning...


I suspect this is, in part, because we need to begin the work of deconstructing some of its elements this week. The sculptures we have purchased during our time in England are coming to the USA with us and they need to be completely cleaned, all remnant of English soil must be removed for them to clear customs....


Also, the hard surfaces of the two patios are in need of a thorough washing, the lack of sunshine during the winter months creates a wonderful petri dish on the sandstone tiles for moss and lichen and algae, turning their natural golden tones to varying degrees of grey and in one area in particular, nearly black. 


You would think we could have taken a few days, relaxed, simply enjoyed the new experience of no set work before such a big undertaking...but, there is a driving force that demands we begin today.


England, particularly the Southeast of England, is experiencing a drought. This green and pleasant land is lacking rainfall, so much so that on Good Friday a hosepipe ban will be imposed. No one in the southern counties will be allowed to use a hose to water their gardens, wash their cars, fill their ponds, etc...


It is this that compels our actions, it is this that gives me pause this morning.


How preciously poised the ecosystem of our Earth is and how often I forget or take that for granted. I am forced to remember this week, the lack of rain, the changing weather patterns, have impacted my part of the world. 


Today we will use our hose to clean things and to ready the sculptures for their trans-Atlantic journey. But starting on Friday, we will water all the new sprouting life by hand, we will tend our garden with less ease. It will take more effort, but we will linger longer, slow down, see more, take time to reflect on the miraculous growth of a tulip, reaching to the light from the depths of the soil in which it was planted many months ago. 


Perhaps it will remind me to do the same with myself, remind me to breathe deeply, to remember to gently watch as I reach for the light, while simultaneously keeping myself grounded, seeking nourishment from the dark places I cannot yet fully see, the unknown that is yet to be revealed, the leap of faith that is the new life we are embarking upon.


Judy