so many things i've been wanting to write these days.
fragments of stories. of thoughts.
and yet, the words have just been silently spoken
and not silently written.
but let's just write about what in one way or another
has become this year's love
this was the year of gardening.
of learning. and weeding.
and getting hands awfully dirty.
here i am. all of thirty seven.
and its been a year of gardening.
i really haven't a clue as to what i'm doing
but i think that's what it's about.
and not just of the process, but learning patience too.
and it's about probably making a lot of mistakes
but doing it my way.
and figuring it out as i go along.
roses and lavender have always been some of my favourite things.
taking me on day dreams to the provence or the tuscany.
it's their glory. it's their scent.
and it's the way they live in cycles. just like a beautiful feminity.
and this year, it started on the veranda.
first there was the white oleander that i brought back from italy in may.
it was almost as though i had made a vow with myself
not to come back
without a white oleander.
and while working my way on the veranda,
a small rose here and a lavender there,
i started to see the garden. in a different light.
i'd pour myself a glass of wine in the evenings,
sit outside on the steps and simply looked and listened
as though trying to know what the garden itself
wanted to become.
and again, all i could see was roses. and lavender.
and this garden patch underneath an old cherry tree
that had become a forest of weeds and such unknown things,
became the summer's venture.
and it became the daily ritual
upon coming home from work
of simply pulling out the weeds,
one by one. bare hands and all.
i think that was part of the process for me too.
and at first, it's almost as though you don't know where to start,
it's almost overwhelming.
but with each step,
the path becomes more clear,
and you start to see things in more detail,
you discover things
and it starts to form. it starts to change.
that's the weeding.
taking things by the hand.
taking things by the root.
and when friends would call in the evening,
the first question started to become a habit of
"are you out in the garden weeding?"
it was almost as though everyone started to take part of this story
and watching it unfold.
and friends started to bring their own little pieces of self for the garden.
lavenders. i believe each and every gift has been lavenders.
and then came the roses.
one by one.
it's almost strange to say,
but it was as though i was a bit timid at first.
or maybe better said,
there was this doubt in me,
i felt i had to learn more, understand more,
before i could embrace the roses.
and then i finally said to myself,
the first rose, i fell in love with because of the name.
and actually, that's a bit of the story behind all of my roses.
it's not just for their bloom, their colour or their fragrance.
it's also because of their name.
something i can't really explain.
the first rose was paris charme. and a luscious pink.
then came miss dior. soft, a hush of creme. and her subtle scent.
dame de coeur was found on an unexpected day.
she was a bit neglected and not really promising to bloom.
but i saw her and it was as though i felt, or maybe i believed,
i could bring her back to her beauty again.
and i think that's when some of the magic was already starting,
it didn't take long and there she was.
vibrant. pink. and almost something sensuous about her.
and with my this morning's coffee,
it was a wonderful awakening, to see the promise of rosebuds again.
it was anais nin that once ever so beautifully said...
"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. "
i think this is what the dame de coeur is reminding me of.
and maybe teaching me as well.
and as the rose garden on the veranda started to grow,
along came the fireball rose.
i think i was fascinated, by her form, as though her figure.
and her lulling and alluring shade of the red.
i think if red were ever to be defined, to be given a single name,
it would be this rose. this fireball.
and then the day came that i discovered the aphrodite.
i saw her at the gardner and amongst all the roses i saw that day,
she was the one.
it was almost as though she was calling me, tempting me.
and yes, i brought her home too.
pastels of pink peach. and voluptious blossoms.
and for some reason, i talk with her a lot.
and i ask for one more bloom as i ask for one more wish.
and the last rose that came into the secret garden,
is called lion's rose.
yet i always seem to call her lion's heart.
and she too stood out in the crowd, amongst all the others.
caught my eye before i had even read her name.
i just spoken with mom on the phone earlier
and then decided to buy a rose for her...
because although she's far away,
i wanted a rose in the garden that would be her rose.
and with her august birthday,
it felt like a gift that i couldn't give her to place in her hand,
but that i could simply give her to place in her heart, and have her here
rather than a thousand miles away.
so that made me smile all the more when discovering this rose's name.
my mom. under the stars a leo.
and hence a lion's heart.
it's these lions' hearts that i tend to hold so close to me.
and they both seem so far away.
and these are my roses. this my summer's love.
and it's been about learning.
and it's been about growing.
it's been about taking the risk to blossom.
and i don't ever want to stop...