While I sleep........

I am in that "whirling dervish of the mind" state again. It is approaching 1am, and here I am. Wide awake. Black coffee next to me. Am I the only one who needs to micro-manage everything and everyone around me?

It is ridiculous, I know. Having to be the lynch pin or oracle is not a talent. It is a disaster, because after a little while, it is what you are expected to be. And that takes away initiative from those you manage. Not to mention that it totally wipes you out.

Oh well. I am a work in progress.

I have some words I want to delve into soon on my mind. Linda wrote a wonderful post on the words "always" and "never", and it made me think a great deal. And another word was "regrets". But to be honest, I don't feel like writing right now. I am letting my fingers play on the keyboard and we will see where they lead.

Soon I will tumble into bed, you see, and while I sleep, the world will keep turning. The clock will keep ticking away the minutes of my life, and my daughter will get on another plane, which will take her home to NZ. While I sleep, planes will fly around the globe. Ships will keep sailing through the seas.

While I sleep, my garden will keep growing, and I wonder what surprises I will have when I wander out there in the soft morning light. Which lily will have decided to awake, and tentatively open its petals to the world?

While I sleep, people will die, and babies will be born. And half the world will be awake and going about their day, and the other half will be curled up in their beds, dreaming of days yet to come, dreams yet to be fulfilled.

It is already tomorrow. Today. And I have yet to say farewell to today. Yesterday. I am caught between the days and the nights. And I think back to that day-night 4 years ago when there was no end to one day..... it fell into the next in endless hours.

But that was then and this is now, and I am surrounded by lists of things I need to do. Tomorrow. Today. The floor won't be cleaned while I sleep. Nor will the vacuuming be done.

But while I sleep, my soul will rest. My body will relax. My hair will end up like a bird's nest. The phone won't ring (I hope), and the house will fall silent. Well it will after I switch off Sky news.

While I sleep, somewhere someone will be weeping. Someone will be suffering. I stand in the darkness of my garden, and I can't hear anything. Silence. The world - my world - is asleep. And here I am.

And while I sleep, 90% of the people who read this blog will be awake. Ahead or behind me in time. Ah well. Enough now, fingers. You have played enough for tonight.

It is time for me to sleep now.

Well the week seems to have disappeared somwhere................

Time has a way of running past without you realising, doesn't it. This week has been a week of mixed emotions. My daughter has flown away, and so help me, first someone stood on her camera on the plane and broke the LCD display, and then she lost it in Vancouver. Not good. But she is having a great time discovering another new place, and seems to be loving every minute of it all. Tomorrow, she flies home to NZ, and her life there.

I have a friend who heard this week that the cancer she thought she had beaten 10 years ago is back. I was with her when she heard the news from her consultant at the hospital appointment. Bad things happen all the time, and I hate it when they happen to my friends. So she is having an op on Monday week, and your prayers for healing would be greatly appreciated.

Glynis, one of my star friends, has also been in hospital. Sigh. We are all cracking up and breaking down and falling to pieces round these parts. Not good at all. Jean has hurt her foot too.

The school holidays are here at last in England - Scotland has been on holiday for ages already. And predictably, the weather has taken a turn for the worse. But at least it is not cold. My garden continues to surprise me by the day - new plants blossoming all over the place, and the abundance of beans is a delight. We eat freshly picked veg from the garden every day.

Bureaucracy battling however, is not a delight. There has been a lot of that round here this week too. And happily, the meds are starting to work a little so life is not tinged by the redness of discomfort to quite the same degree. Good grief. I am the master of understatement. What I am saying in plain English is that the pain is slightly better now that the meds are being slowly increased. It has all been a disaster. But we will get there. One day.

I am talking gibberish now. Time to go and have a nap and some chocolate I think. Maybe go and be mindful in my garden as I water it. We will see.

I will be back and hopefully more perky later. Have a great Saturday!

Last evening....

It is 11.20pm and the cases are nearly packed. Today I have made her a Union Jack cushion with pretty fabric, and crocheted her a hat after we went to find the wool this morning. Made bread. Done the shopping. Cooked supper. The phone had been ringing, skype has been on the go and there have been visitors. And now it is dark, and time for bed, because her plane leaves early tomorrow.

Sigh.

The little things.....

There are some days when , so help me, I just seem to go through the motions. The hours pass and I do what has to be done as well as I can, and my brain clicks into neutral and come the evening, I can't remember for the life of me what I have done all day. Accomplished.

The psychologist at Bath talked about "Mindfulness". Apparently I need to be mindful. So, I started reading a little about what being mindful actually is, and as it happens, my good friends who just happen to be psychologists, will be running a weekend course on Mindfulness soon. I will be there. In the front row. I have lots to learn.

When I heard that too often our minds race from one thing to another constantly and as a result, we get little in focus, the lightbulb in my head started flashing morse code. "You! This is you!" it yelled. Right. I tend to either be in limbo or the brain decides to turn into a whirling dervish. This is not helpful. Living right now in the moment and noticing it and appreciating it sounds perfectly good sense to me. Now I have to learn how.

It is easy to drift into dreamland, where everything is perfect. It is also unhelpful, and unrealistic. If we spend too much time hankering after the unattainable, we miss the moment. Now.

I love gardening and growing things. If I had the great garden of my dreams, I would not be able to manage it. My tiny garden is full of pots, planters and raised beds, you see, so I never have to bend or crouch or kneel. There are hanging baskets stuffed with herbs, and lettuce alongside the cascading flowers. I can manage it. I can grow things. Even though at the widest part it is just 25ft by 15ft , I still manage to grow enough vegetables to feed us through the summer and longer.

There are chairs everywhere for me to sit and rest and just enjoy the beauty of the flowers, the scent of the lavender, lilies and roses, and sweet peas. Mixed with the beans and peas and tomatoes etc. There is a big table for me to use to pot up things. Even my little shed is raised. The greenhouses mean I have things on shelves. I can water everything with watering cans.

Right now, there is not a great deal I can do physically. Tempting though it is to retire to the couch and whine, I try to get out in the garden for a little while each day. In the wind and rain too, let me add. You see, I made it. I did it. I planted it from seeds I collected last year. All it took was time, and my garden doesn't come with a time chart I have to stick to or get into trouble. It doesn't mind if I water in stages. It doesn't matter if I plant out things at different times. There is no master plan someone expects me to work to. It grows. It gives me huge joy. And a wonderful sense of accomplishment too. At least there is something I can do.

I wouldn't win any prizes for speed, efficiency and other measures. But it doesn't matter. What I need to learn how to do now is to train my mind to focus on what I am doing out there. The little joys from seeing a tomato appear. The bees hovering. The bud opening. The collection of seeds. Realise the miracles, and savour them each, tiny though each may be. Store away the images in my mind, alongside the feelings they incur.

The little things. Too easy to do them automatically without appreciating them.

It is never too late to learn, is it. Adventures start right here at home.

Friendship...................

I have been thinking about friendship today. About how incredibly blessed I am to have some amazing real life friends here where I live. Real life friends around the country, the world. And friends I have never met, but who have become a real part of my life here. Not imaginary by any means.

You know, it is easy to take them for granted. I am probably guilty of that more than I like to admit. They are always there, and I know it. However, they do know I am there for them too, and I am sure of that. I make sure. They need to be cherished, because I don't know what I would do without any of them. Each one of them /you adds something special to me - to my life. My friends help to shape who I am.

For my 50th birthday, I made myself a quilt of friends, and in the centre, I embroidered the words - my life is like a patchwork of people who matter to me.

I think that is actually the essence of what I am trying to say. Friendship happens when someone matters to you. When you care about them. In good times - the easy part - and in tough times. The "not so easy" and "beam me up, Scotty" times.

A good friend stands in the gap for you.
Stands in front of you to shield you.
Stands behind you to catch you.
Stands alongside you to encourage you.
And stands facing you when you need to hear some truths you would rather not confront.

A good friend is all of that, does all of that. And more. The list is long and varied, and peculiar to each friend. So fascinating. So different. A good friend loves you, warts and all, and you will laugh till you cry with them, weep as you hold them, cheer on their successes, and pick them up after their failures. Speak the truth, even when it may hurt. Tell you when you look totally hideous in some outfit. Save you from embarrassment. Not to mention arrive with chocolate in times of stress and high drama. There is loads of that around here. The stress and high drama bit. It is clearly all my friends' fault that I am not Twiggy.

Well, that is what you are supposed to do. A friendship is a relationship and we all know how much work goes into relationships. They don't just happen. If it is one-sided, there is no hope it will flourish. And when a friendship slowly dies or suddenly stops for no obvious reason, it is so painful. SO painful.

You agonise over what went wrong, what you did, or didn't do, was it your fault, how could it happen......... all the things you went through when you were dating and broke up. (Good grief - I can't tell you how many years it is since I used the words "dating" or "broke up"!) You know what I mean - the intensity is the same, and at times the hurt is far worse, especially after a friendship of decades. And the secrets shared.......

I am a fixer by nature. I want to make things better. Fix things. But some things I just can't. I know some people who seem to be incapable of sharing their friends. It is so sad, you know. If you happen to be friends with someone like that, they tend to resent any other contacts you may have, and see them as competition. The intensity can exhaust, and sadly, insecurity can destroy the very thing which they need most. Friendship.

Ah well....... I love my friends to become friends with each other. Actually, I sort of assume that they will all like each other and be friends. They have me in common, after all! What more could you possibly want. Hahahahahaha!

Each one is different. Each one has a special place. And each and every one would come at 2 in the morning, if I needed them. That is the amazing bit. They care about me. The phone rings and a voice from afar with a dearly familiar accent says "Hullo - can you talk?" and my spirits lift. It doesn't matter how many miles separate you. Friendship spans the globe.

I started off by saying how blessed I am. I just need to look at my friends and I grin.

Blessed??

Oh yes.

Contemplating change.....

The wind is blowing the garden to bits as I speak. And I gave in in the end, and went and asked for a repeat prescription for the medication which attempts to sort out the nerve damage. I hate medicine. But there is a limit to what I can tolerate, and I just breezed past that. So we are not having a stunning day round here. When even your face starts tingling when you move, you know you need to do something.

Anyway.

Hello, all.

I am trying to ignore the fact that Wednesday will be here soon, and I will be saying goodbye to my daughter as she wings her way back to her home in NZ. Again. At the same time, I am caught in a quandary - Where should I be? What should I do? Do I sell this house and move? Where? When? I have 3 children. One in New Zealand. 2 in Kent. For now. I have a sister in Switzerland. I have friends here in the village, but then I also have friends in Scotland..... all over the place.

If I move away, I will have to build a new life with new people, and in new places. New doctors - oh we will not go there right now.

It is just that I wonder why I am here in this house sometimes. Away from my family. Away from my grandchild. Away from my sister. Why? They are not here - those people who mean the world to me.

Things change, you know. When our children were small, here in the village, there was a huge network of friends and we all saw each other regularly, and did things together. Then the children grew up and went off to university, and for a few years, we had a wonderful grown up time - lots of social events without children around, except during the holidays. Dinner parties, choirs, walks, theatres and so on.

Then they started settling down, getting married and scattering to the 4 corners of the world, had babies, and so the close knit community of friends got (and is getting) pulled in a multitude of directions, as the new role as grandparents entered our realms of experience. And our responsibilities changed. Add retirement into the mix, and life is changing rapidly for the people I know. The Third Age is here.

The core of close friends remains solid, of course. But being alone, and not half of a couple makes this a challenging time, because I have to think of options, sort out positive and negative aspects, and then make a decision. I. Me. Myself. Moi. Ich. No-one to bounce ideas off, because I am the only one affected by whatever decision I make, ultimately. And whatever I choose to do, it will be alone.

So I am in ostrich mode.

Stick the whole lot in the "too hard" basket and plod on doing all the mundane every day things I can think of doing to validate the avoidance of decision making. Procrastination is my middle name.

Of course there is no hurry to make any decision at all. The housing market is not going to rise for another decade, they tell us. There is no immediate reason for me to up sticks and disappear over the horizon in a daisy painted Kombi, clutching my mythical laptop and sewing machine and crochet hook. But sometimes, that sounds like an excellent idea. Become a gypsy.

I would miss my garden. But then I could make a garden anywhere, couldn't I.

I want to spend time with my children regularly. All of them. I want to be a part of their lives, but to have that balance - you know? A good part, not a "rolling-of-the-eyes-here-she-comes-again" kind. The kind which builds wonderful family memories. That means I need to be travelling. And it also means having my own space somewhere. But where?

And what about those adventures? I have plans for many. The list has been around for decades, and yes, a lot has been crossed off, either done or discarded as being totally ludicrous. The list is still there. So are the dreams. Some dreams have died. Some have changed, but the essence of them remains. Love, laughter, happiness, health, peace.......

Bev has written 2 wonderful posts "Freedom to..." and "Still in the school of life" which have given me plenty to think about too. She is absolutely embracing this new stage of her life with delight and joy and she makes me smile too.

When I was at Bath, one of the huge concerns of the team was what was going to happen when all the legal whatsits are over, and the mammoth mountain I have been tackling disappears. The void it will leave.

Hmmmm.

Maybe I must consider that Kombi again. And daisy painting.

Totally random bits today.........

We seem to have temporarily misplaced summer. There are dark clouds overhead, and the washing and I are getting plenty of exercise. In, out, in, out etc etc. At the moment, it is artistically draped over my kitchen in a fetching manner. And as I have just felt the need to water my pots, you can guarantee that the heavens will burst open and the second flood will begin any moment now.

Jean and I had a trip to Waitrose this morning, where I got to salivate over the sat navs, and netbooks and laptops. And TVs, and little dresses for little girls. And garden things. But especially the electronic thingies. I haven't got a laptop, and as I can't afford one right now, the netbooks are looking like a good alternative. But I will get a laptop one day, so is it silly to get something else? Should I just wait? You see, I have no idea when one day is going to be. Sigh. I did pat the laptop I have my eye on. It can wait. So maybe a little netbook is a good interim measure. Providing I can see the screen and read what is on it, of course. Jean and I were grinning as we looked at the TVs. And the size of the ones we thought our aging eyes could cope with. Not tiny, people.

Just as well they didn't have any iPads. I wanted to play with one. I have yet to actually see one up close. I absolutely love walking around somewhere like that just dreaming, and trying things. Just now and then. Fun. And the company, the coffee and the cake was excellent, of course!

I have also noticed that my hearing is not what it used to be. How?? My mobile phone beeps 5 times when I get a text message. I only hear the last 2. Maybe. now and then. Sigh. Remember what I said about turning 50??? BAAAAAAAAAAD idea. So when I am out anywhere, I never ever hear my phone. Just perfect.

Next I will need an ear horn. To go with the magnifying glass I bought for £1 this morning.

They were out of zimmer frames. (walking frames)

Another trip to Bath............

Bath. Been there and back again. That was yesterday for a few follow-up appointments. Lots of good advice and suggestions, an hour with the team psychologist, who has perfected the art of making me talk. At length. Then home. Absolutely exhausted.
Also in a great deal of discomfort because the doctor actually touched my leg. Very gently and briefly, but still.......... It has taken me nearly 2 years to de-sensitise it so I can touch it, but I have not done any work of any sort to enable anyone else to do so. So every nerve ending is on full alert and protesting, and is still in that state now, more than 24 hours later. My skin is crawling.....like a million live bugs and pins and needles all over it. Including my hair. You have NO idea. And the headache is beyond description. No sleep last night etc etc etc.

The rain is falling at the moment. Soaking the garden, so I don't have to do much watering today. This place has been filled with visitors all day and I have consumed more coffee than I have for weeks and that is saying a lot. I love my coffee. That could also have contributed to the head, of course. Such a delight.
And that is all I have to report right now. I am hurting and tired. But I have friends who are facing huge crises right now, and in comparison, I have nothing to complain about, and plenty to be thankful for. I go back again in 6 months. But I like Bath. It is a beautiful place, and the people I see are lovely, and if one does not lose the parking ticket and have to pay £25 as a result for parking for less than 4 hours, it makes for a lovely day out. No, I didn't drive - one of my friends came with me. Just as well, because I can never remember anything they say. There was something about Chi Kung classes........

Summer is here......

So this is the new look for now then. I did actually look at about 5 websites for new templates, and then I lost the will to live. And there was nothing I loved enough to copy and paste and youknowwhatelse. So I popped a new header on instead, and the colours look fine, and match and it looks like summer to me, so we will stick with this.

Actually, "popped a new header on" is a blatant lie, people. It involved much screeching for David's help, and text wrapping and then I left him to it and went to water the garden. Whatever. I have a header.

And here I am, typing with an orange ice-lolly in my left hand. It is HOT here. We are in the middle of a heatwave, and temps this weekend will be in the 30s, which, for England, is very high. I know this sounds relatively cool to some, but there is no such thing as a/c in houses here, unless you are very rich indeed. And that precludes me and just about 99% of the population. With humidity tossed in, lying on the tiled floor of the kitchen becomes an option to be seriously considered. Of course, there is the possibility that one may never get up off the floor again as well.

Now, seeing that I cannot muster a single coherent thought, I am off to stick my head in the freezer to cool down. And yes, I do remember whining about the cold just a few months ago.......

The day after a long day......

Morning, all.

Well, that is better. At least I can read my own blog now. ScrappinBlogs has a slight issue with their host so all the code has been removed. Which meant you needed to have x-ray vision to read anything on this blog. And I have been studiously ignoring the new design feature on Blogger, but HAD to go and find something simple, so here we are. Desperate measures and all that. I foresee trawling through templates in my immediate future, and we all know how much I HATE CHANGING ANYTHING here.

This is shaping up to be a spectacular day, I can see. Just full of my favourite things. I need to go and dig up potatoes. In RCR terms, that means upending a pot and removing said potatoes from the soil, tossing away the foliage and sticking the soil back in the pot. No actual digging is involved, but it sounds good. No worms or wiggly things involved at all either, which suits me just fine.

Yesterday came and went. Just another day on the surface, but so much more beneath. And my memories of that night are still so vivid, and probably always will be. It is as though a bomb went off inside this family and changed our lives forever. But the earth keeps turning, and night follows day, and children grow, and so do we. Older, in my case. Thank you all for your lovely messages. They mean a great deal to me.

I sent my lawyer an email reminding her of the date. I live in hope that it will speed things up. However, I am not holding my breath.

Diana is off on her final road trip before she departs, and David heard yesterday that he has pased his second year, so that is wonderful. Relief. He hated the pharmacology section and was a little concerned. But all is well. Pharmacology is history. One more year of his Bachelor's degree left to do and then he will be considering Master's programmes. I think. Ridiculous, really. The child was a toddler just a few months ago. Or so it seems.

Right. Time to find a template. I need coffee to fortify myself.

Four years ago.......

Different windows......

Let's talk about windows. Bear with me - my mind is dancing about today.

Blogs are like windows, aren't they. A little glimpse into or a panoramic view of our lives, depending on who you are, your circumstances, your need for privacy, your life, your family, the place you live. Community. Age. A great many factors govern the state of your window.

And windows do of course, come in may styles and sizes. One common factor is that they all have glass in them. Some though, have obscured glass, and only vague shapes are visible through them. Nothing is clear at all, from either side of the glass.

Well, here in the UK, there are still a many homes with net curtains at their windows. Houses are smaller, and closer to the road, and it is a way of preserving your privacy. Unless you happen to switch on the lights in the evening, and then the net curtains are completely useless. I can see in then, to what is concealed at other times.

Other people have got vertical blinds, which filter the view out, and the view in too. They are angled to see one side of the garden or the other or just straight ahead. Then there are roller blinds, which can obscure half of the window or all of it, depending on whether it is day or night. And curtains of course, which are closed at night.

Then you have homes like mine, where I hate darkness, and love light, so the windows into my garden have no curtains or blinds. I keep the curtains in the front of the house open till it is really dark. If people can see in, well, that is just fine.

The reason I have noticed this at the moment, is that I am staying at a friend's house for a few days, to look after their pets. They live in another part of the village. And, staying in someone else's home means you have different curtains to contend with. Window thingies. Once I started pondering windows, it sort of led to the blog link. Well, I know what I mean.

So back to the blog.

Some people use their blog as a family record, and post about their lives in detail. Open windows. Often they make it private, only accessible to trusted friends. Closed curtains. Others focus on one aspect of their lives, and seldom talk about the rest. Windows with blinds. Some guard what they say, and the privacy of their family really carefully. Almost closed curtains. Or nets.

I blog in a smallish community of lovely people, who I have grown to know and love. I have watched their children / grandchildren grow, their lives develop, and I have laughed, cried, and listened and learned from them all. Some I have got to know more personally through emails, conversations and meetings, and that has been such fun. Layers being peeled away. Blinds being opened. Or it could be x-ray vision of course. Hmmm.

I control the window here, you see. I sometimes close the curtains. I usually use the filter of blinds, so only a part of my life is visible. Net curtains too, at times. Often the temptation is to fling open the window, and let the light flood in, but then I think of my kids, and some of them are not wildly thrilled about starring roles. Or of knowing what their Mum is actually thinking. Or of being reminded that their mother is actually a person too! Some things need to be kept to myself. For now anyway.

Very few blog windows out there are open wide. Most of us take steps to protect our vulnerability, and yet there are times when I wish I could just write what burns like a fire in my heart. Without thinking of consequences. Taking precautions. Editing. Pulling down the blinds a little. A little more. More again. Then maybe closing the curtains too, to make sure that no-one can see me. See into me. See into my heart. My mind.

I want to fling open the windows. Heck, I want windows like my sister's ones, which fold back on each other, until the whole wall is open to the elements, and the window is out of the way. You see, I tend to take what people I know in real life may think into a little too much consideration. Not that I am writing about them, of course. But they read this. They recognise me in the street. I choose to write. They choose to read.

And what about reflective glass? You can't see in from outside - you just get a view of yourself. But from inside, you can see out perfectly. Perhaps this is what a truly inspirational blog has in its window. Deflecting attention from the author, to reinforce their message instead. That takes enormous talent, and I can think of a few wonderful women who fall into that category. Heaven knows how much they have made me think over the years, and re-examine parts of me I would far rather ignore.

So our windows are all different. At times, I use my wildly over-active imagination to consider what people may not be saying. I am sure most of us do this. I care about people who matter to me.

I wonder at times, though, how different life would be if we were all open. Ah well - that is life, isn't it, and living in a street with identical windows, blinds, curtains would make life very boring indeed. And I wouldn't have to use my imagination as much.

Happy Fourth of July.....

It is the 4th July, and for Americans all over the world, it is a day of huge significance, and a day to celebrate with their families and friends. Happy 4th to you all!

Here, though, it is just an ordinary Sunday, on an ordinary weekend in July, and the wind has been blowing all day, although it has not been cold. Church with my daughter, and Wimbledon Men's Final on tv this afternoon. Watering gardens (x3) and chilling out with pesto pasta for dinner (made by the daughter).

Actually, watering the garden was the simple bit. The challenging part was tying the garden down, in fact. I have lost count of how many stakes I have put into the ground to attempt to anchor my plants to the earth. The wind bent everything in two, and they needed a little help. Tomorrow, if it has stopped blowing, I need to rescue my gem squash and butternut vines from behind the greenhouse. That is where I last saw them, anyway.

But right now, the evening sun, with its soft light is making my garden glow. Mother did not have any more 3am encounters last night, and I am happy to report that we are all still here.

A beautiful summer day......

A beautiful summer day today. July is starting very well indeed. I have just been out in the garden cutting back some of the rampant growth. However, I am now totally melting. That is a nice way of saying that I am a puddle, with bright red face and am dripping in a highly unattractive fashion. My hands are still grubby after scrubbing them, and my nails are history. And we will not mention the hair, which was quite under control before my garden effort.

Oh well.

It is the weekend, and I have no intention of going anywhere right now.

Missy and her parents are in the Alps, and are having a wonderful time. Missy has never had so much space to play, and Marge has swings, and gazebos, and little tables and chairs, paddling pools etc in her garden, and I think my granddaughter would be happy to stay right there in the garden for the rest of summer. I know the feeling well.

Mum and I ventured out early to find her some suitable summer clothes, as she is shrinking and everything she has is way too large. A successful trip. So she has some pretty things to wear now. I could do with a bit of shrinkage. But let me tell you that my loathing of town on a Saturday has not changed. It is my least favourite thing to do. Ever. We were going to my absolute favourite garden centre for their 50% off sale today, but realistically, I looked round my garden and decided that there was nowhere to put anything, so I resisted the urge, and ignored the craving for fruit scones and coffee. The best fruit scones. I am feeling very virtuous at the moment. Dripping and virtuous. This is not a good look.

Diana has finally found and ordered her glasses, thank heavens. Another tick on the list. My list for July - or flowchart thingy- is starting to look like spaghetti junction. I am off to Bath in a week for another appointment with the CRPS team down there too.

And my mother had an unearthly experience at 3am, apparently. A bright shining light flooded her bedroom. We are all quite put out that she didn't leap to her feet and investigate. It could have been an alien with his spaceship. Or an angel. I did point out that if she had, we could have sold her story to the Daily Star or some such place, and retired. It has been the source of much mirth and speculation from us all today, I can tell you. Mother included. She is under strict orders to wake us all if it happens again. I will be ready with the camera.

Unless we are abducted, of course.

In my garden again......

Have you ever wondered why some roses have so many many petals squashed in there, just waiting to unfold? And yet others have just a few? What was God thinking?

And have you ever wondered what he was thinking when he crafted the delicate fuschia blossom, which bursts out of that little pod thingy?


I think He was grinning as He planned the surprise.....
And why He gave these pinks the most heavenly scent and why He decided that some flowers are annuals - flowering once only and yet others like the pinks keep multiplying and coming up every year?

Or why some Calendula are yellow, some cream and some orange?

And WHY does the courgette plant (Zucchini) have to grow so enormous and take over half the garden, yet produce such small fruits? And as for those hideous prickly leaves which go blotchy.....
Once upon a time, I did colour co-ordinated gardens. (And Christmas trees.) Now I go for every colour under the sun - a rainbow of colours. You name it and it is in there somewhere. The brighter the better. There are 26 rose bushes in the back garden, and they come in every colour. One deep red one has about 60 buds on as I speak. And the lilies are about to burst open too. There must be about 10 different kinds in the beds.

You see, I had a thought last year (a lightbulb moment) - who was I to decide to only select some colours for my garden? As someone who has taught the colour wheel to many little darlings, and how to make colours by mixing others together and which colours go best with other colours blah blah blah........ I had this vision of God with a colour wheel in one hand, trying to decide the correct way to do things.

I think not.

I don't think he flipped through colour charts and decided which colours would look best together. I think He played. Had fun. Experimented. There were no rules, because He was being creative, wasn't He. On a grand scale, of course. He most certainly didn't create paradise using a palette of pink and purple through blue. Of this I am absolutely certain.

I suspect He grinned and thought - I am sure Linds will never expect red and purple to burst out of that white pod. Or - she will not stop grinning when she sees the way the white tulip goes purple over the weeks it blooms. Not so boring after all.

I think He had fun. Master artist at work, blending and experimenting and adding perfumes to the mix. He played.

And I am too, in my garden. It makes me grin.