The clouds sail with a swiftness across the blue sky outside. It rained overnight and the garden is drenched in a glittering wetness. Where the sun hits, pockets of beam spotlight particular plants. On stage. They sparkle. I gaze in silence. A sense of deep gratitude rises up inside and ‘thank you’ is felt in this body now, in this quiet chair of mine, in this room. I read recently that if you gaze long enough at anything, you’ll see love and beauty. I listened to a short interview on Instagram with an older gentleman who said he had spent his entire life looking for the beautiful. He had stopped on a busy New York pavement and was looking up at the sky. He had time to talk. To see.
Spring rose leaves quiver fresh and green, tender honeysuckle stems and hellebore heads all move and rustle to the wind’s quiet caressing touch. It’s a dance to music I can’t hear. Every morning the theatre of this garden is different, but at the same time familiar. The plants remain constant but how they look and what I see is never the same twice. I am not the same person I was yesterday… what and how I see are altered simply by the 24 hour span between then and now. We are all new every day.
‘We don’t need to wait for death to experience resurrection. We can begin resurrection today by living connected to God. Resurrection happens every time we love someone even though they were not very loving to us. At that moment we have been brought to new life. Every time we decide to trust and begin again, even after repeated failures, at that moment we’ve been resurrected. Every time we refuse to become negative, cynical, hopeless, we have experienced the Risen Christ. We don’t have to wait for it later. Resurrection is always possible now.’
[Richard Rohr meditation 5 April]
I sip at my tea, cradling the cup in my hands. I sit. Watch. Listen. The wind is bolder, is more audible now. It’s stirring things up among the plants. There’s a mischief in it. A playfulness. At the end of the garden, the gravel path curves away in greenness, it is a short tunnel of climbing ivy, rose, honeysuckle, jasmine and the scent in Summer is spectacular. For now, it is a viridescent invitation that silently beckons. The garden gate always stands open, a welcome to any soul that comes our way. Arms are open. It’s shady in the tunnel with the odd ray breaking through, there is magic here. I can see it.
When my granddaughter was over at the weekend, she summoned me to join her at the glass. Looking out and pointing she whispered, only to me, “Mops I saw something fluttering out there, I think you have fairies in the garden.” I am a firm believer in fairies and felt her delight, I shared it with her and explained that I think the fairies particularly love the tall red tulips when they make an appearance in the garden. They adore the black silky centres deep in the cup and smooth skin petals. We looked for a long time together, complicit in this private secret that only we could see and feel. Conspirators two. I hope she never loses the precious ability to see what is often invisible to others. I hope she knows I will always see it with her. I hope that the weight of life doesn’t erase the magic, wonder and mystery. That things unexplained remain exactly that, not having all the answers is really ok. It allows us to continue to be surprised and delighted. We don’t have to know.
It allows me to gaze out at the garden every morning of this very short life and feel mystified by it. Delight in the fresh song it sings, or roars, depending on its mood. As a result of our enchantment I have fixed two toadstools into the stumpery as potential homes for our wingéd friends and I know Phoebe will approve of my choice. I am as happy to encourage faeries as I am to find newts in the pond. Five of them, the common newt with beautiful patterns on their backs, another source of spell making for the children….and me. We watched them darting around the clear cold water of the pond, dabbling our fingers in and wondering how they got there. I could Google, but I don’t need to know
Looking and seeing. So often informed by our own experience of life. Or we can choose to see as a blank page, continually impressed, charmed, curious, printed upon in a way that relishes the different. Is unafraid of the unknown and seeks out the good, the beautiful, the heart of everything. It is there. I hope this weekend opens up before you with every possible magic contained in it. Happy Friday.
Till the next time…
A
Oh my Alice-Ann this is so beautiful! Thank you 🙏❤️
Lovely Alice! I'm looking over our little patch of green right now. It brings so much pleasure xx