“My Country Garden”

Everyone needs a garden in their life.  Not necessarily a literal garden, just somewhere where things can grow.  Everything from plants to ideas to children to peace of mind.

Right now at six o’clock in the morning, I am sitting in my bedroom looking out on the paradise of my back garden.  An artist’s pallet of summer colours still fresh from the buds of May.   Roses at their floral best, no need to compete at Chelsea, in this garden they are already gold medal winners.  Poppies, lupins, delphiniums and daisies each have their own smiling face and their Sunday best clothes.  Not to be left out, the leaves of the hostas and the ferns are all preened and proud as peacocks.  Even the humble cabbage leaves are pressed like a clean shirt happy to be invited to the party.

In the early morning quiet, the only sounds are the birds singing a welcome to the sun and the seeds.

Within an hour the worldly day will begin to erode the tranquility but the birds, the flowers and the colours will still be there.

The challenge of every day is to hold those thoughts and images in our mind, while we walk through the rest of life.

We can all move to the country in our minds!

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3 Responses to “My Country Garden”

  1. Wonderful a day dream! Mine is on the pennie moors in a brilliant sunshine, you can see from horizon to horizon, a gentle breeze in the face, and all the colour hews of heather, and the patches of well nibbled green grass interlocking. The sound of the odd curlew or other bird that may be around. As you say transported in the mind in complete tranquility those five minutes of peace and quiet are a joy to behold.

  2. Jon Cleaver says:

    How right you are John. The garden is not just a painting on the canvas of life; the garden serves many purposes. It can be in a window box, on a balcony, in a few pots, even on a roof, it is the power generated from seed to a scenic display of colourful splendour and the many natural calming perfumes generated too.

    I am no gardener, I wish I was, my better half creates the vision, I do the cooking; we meet in the middle have a meal and a glass of wine, on summer days in the garden.

    Fortunately I have a large patio door to the garden and even in winter we can sit with a full view, there is always something happening, be it rain, which I must confess fascinates me, as does the wind as it creates natures many symphonies in combination with the trees, through the leaves, panpipes and piccolo’s; the smiling faces of the pansy nodding their approval, or the creaking bows of winter, cello and castanets.

    Then there is the wild life, birds, my visitors include the great spotted woodpecker, the shy jay, the heron, courtesy of the Coombe Abbey Heronry, the buzzard, not landing but hovering above, the pheasant, and cuckoo, this year the first for a long time.

    The time for my personal space in the garden of summer is to sit with a cup of rosé-lea at 4am on a summer morning. I maintain the scents of the flowers are the strongest at this time; and a hand across the lavender, thyme, mint and basil, creates an aroma bringing back memories of helping my grandmother as she collected for the cooking pot. The blackbird, usually the first to spring into song, sits perched on the bow of a huge oak tree above me, as with other trees I am blessed to view, generating the purist oxygen of the day, at this time no sound of traffic or people, just the sound of nature.

    Sometimes in summer with a gentle rain falling, the patio door open, to complete this peaceful therapeutic adventure, I include a melody of the soft slow piano music of Charles Timberlake; this is some of my favourite music, I don’t know of anything that induces a greater heightening of the senses than this does for me.

    After this, everything is well with the world.

    The Siskin and two Goldfinches my visitors

  3. John your piece on ‘My garden age’, very tender and through rose coloured specicles, but for all that true, of how we take for granted our elderly family members, and those around us with memories, some good, some bad and some very profond. For the younger generation they may listen with minds open and mouths wide open until they become teenagers with their own thoughts and problems. It is only as I grow older, and realise that the gentle pleasures of life are to be savoured: such as a red sky at night, a sunrise, a gentle breeze, and the scent of flowers that abound all around us in the seasons of the year, especially spring when everything is new. We can as you say John not pass on our experiences of life, only talk about them to those around us, and listen to those around us old and young, and with the wisdom of life and age just ponder what god has given us to enjoy, free of charge. A smile and a wink of an eye say it all, with a deep breath of freash air, and the sounds of birds singing.

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