Weekend Weather

Weekday hibernation

The weekend

The birds are making a racked, calling out to each another across the garden. The sound is one of alarm. You know the sound a bird makes when you get to close to their nest. The sky, despite the promise of unseasonably warm weather, is flat grey. The combination of sound and sky creates an ominous feel ti the garden. It feels like something is going to happen. I stop what I am doing to observe. The dogs are in various corners of the garden. Little pup is finding his feet. For him the garden is an assault course of discovery. The various piles of bricks, the many pots of this and that, mean a lot of jumping over things or in the case of my poor lavender plants just walk across. We have had discussion about ranunculus and if they should or should not remain in post. I am of the former, he is of the later. I do love it when his little bear cub body bounces over for a quick cuddle before he steals something (the string) and bounds off to another corner of the garden. I find a slipper on the lawn and wonder if it was him or Eos. They seem to share the gene that likes to steal things and leave them in random places. I am finding it amusing to see what traits they share.

I am in the garden because there is work to be done but also because the week has been long and busy and I have found that weeding my garden seems to release the stress I feel that builds up from the many things of daily life. It is also warm - well warmer than is has been and warmer than it will be as the coming week unfolds. The warmth presents an undercurrent of change. Friends of past seasons are returning to the garden. The first rhoddie is out - bright red in colour. The tiny dwarf Iris appear overnight and I fall hard for their vibrant purple. The daffodils in the lawn are beginning to flowering. I see that some are having a hard time of it with a few stems are on wayward angle thanks to puppy zoomies. I guess I should collect them and put them in a vase inside. This is no hardship I suppose.

The week

The weekend warmth fades and the week starts cold, the weather laced with the promise of snow and the delivery of icy rain. The bitter weather saw me spend time indoors. I miss having time in the garden and the rhythm that the dogs and I have when we are there. I love the together yet apart feeling. I miss the physical stretch I feel from doing some manual work that counteracts a day of work sitting behind a computer. Over the weekend I cleared most of the bricks that were part of the path and weeds from my project bed. I almost have the clear space to begin implementing my ideas. I received a newsletter from one of my favourite online nurseries, Seaflower Nursery who had done a shop update. I quickly pick up Dianthus Cruentus which I had been admiring in a Piet Oudolf planting scheme along with some apricot foxgloves and asters. Hopefully pup doesn’t find them.

Stuck inside means I have time to fill my creative cup. I heard a talk by Annie Dillard who talked of creative blocks. She re frames it and talks of creative emptiness rather than a block and encourage you to explore and collect curiosities when you find yourself in this space. With this in mind I have been collecting curiosities. I started a new notebook (any excuse) to note the little things I love. Over the cold wet days I sat with a book about Vivian Maier. Her work is largely street photography and despite our difference in subject matter I can see themes of similarity. The pause. The capture a moment. The love of light. A number of her images centre around the use of a mirror so I find my old circle with crimped edge Nana mirror and when the weather clears I started to play with the mirror in the garden. I had a fabulous time just playing and look forwarding to continue to explore how I can capture the garden in a different way. As the week unfolds my creative cup fills, the sun returns and I can get back out into the garden just as the weekend approaches.