A messy collection

Of moments

It is midafternoon Saturday. I sit in the front doorway where the sun filters in. Below me on the front step is Eos, sunning herself.  This is her new favourite place to sit.  We are both enjoying the quiet that comes from sitting and absorbing the sun. The winter chill can’t reach us here. Signs of winter have come early this year with winter jumpers pulled out already. It feels too soon.  As a beekeeper I hope we can benefit from the cold winter.  Maybe the coldness will slow down the queen from layering and the varroa mite is curtailed for a period. Hopefully it is cold enough for the hive to rest. Maybe I should listen to the cold and rest too.

I check the garden. The last few days have been busy.   I only seem to have moments to myself when it was dark so what has been happening in the garden has remained a mystery to me. We had a frost a day or so ago, which caused havoc on the roads as people forgot how to drive after the summer months. I’m keen to see how the Dahlias were fairing. A few still flower and there are gaps in the once lush foliage. I dig up those who have finished flowering, doing it before I forget who is where.  I scribble on labels, names such as “that pink one that looks like a lotus” or “soft pink peach colour”.  These are my notes for late spring when I replant. Hopefully my cryptic descriptions will be intelligent. I am very doubtful about this.  I suspect come late spring when I replant it will be based on guess work, like it was last year.  It is warm as I work and I just love that feeling of being in the garden and feeling the sun. It is a much-cherished moment as they become fewer as the winter unfolds.

The fruit tree are bare.  The last few remaining leaves hang on with delicate abandon. They are the last to leave the party. A few apples remain on the tree.   I watch birds eating them. Pecking holes that bruise. They savour the sweetness of the fruit which give substance. The last of pears are ripe and Eos is back to her stealing them off the tree. She devours them in seconds, returning for more. As leaves fall the privacy that I cherish in the garden fades. Gaps in fences reveal neighbours lights at night and the bones of the garden are revealed. The garden is settling into a messy tangle which I feel I should tidy up but probably won’t.

I stand with my camera on my hand.  I walk around the garden to see what I can see. I stand still. Watching. A tauhou (wax eye) has found the red hot pokers which are starting to flower (mine are always later). The flower head is slowly turning from green to red and it must be producing enough nectar for the tauhou to feast on. I slowly move my camera up. I want to capture this moment, but I don’t want to disturb the scene. I am quiet enough to take a few photos before the tauhou flies away. Moving on I notice a thrush disturbing soil and leaf matter in the bed by the path. The Solomon seal has collapsed, slowly melting into the garden. Crumbled former flower heads mingle with spent leaves of the lilac. It all smells of earth and humus. I raise my camera to capture her in her movement. She carries on as her is way. She knows me and is not bothered by my presence.

The garden, as mentioned, is messy at this time of year and I have been thinking about mess of late. I read a newsletter where the author talks of the mess of daily life and how we share a cultivated tidy version of self to others. Sharing the mess, the author suggest might create truer connections, if we allow ourselves. I listened to a talk given by Claire Tackas about her book ‘Visionary.  It is a book, a presentation, of gardens which have sustainable theories behind their creation,  mixing stories of professional landscaped spaces and home gardens.  Each garden offers different lessons in dealing with drought, water retention and recycling.  All thoughts and practices I am sure will influence how we garden in the years to come. She too talks of tidy and how to be more sustainable embracing messy might be the way to go. I chuckle at confession of editing out trash cans from images. Prompted by all this talk of mess I stroll around the garden looking at it with different eyes. My garden has never been perfect and I have settled into the comfort that comes from mess. For mess means spilled foliage, weeds and piles of this and that. They all seem to mix into a habitat that works well for me and for all the creatures that call my garden home. I take photos of the mess and share them here, seeing beauty in it all.