I am basking in unabashed admiration for my garden; not because it is my garden, though being me, it could be enough reason to admire it. No, I am in awe of Mother Nature.
By day I stand in gob smacked appreciation of the sheer beauty that Spring and the recent rains have created in the garden. From many point in my house and in fact even standing outside my front door looking in I can see the star jasmine in all its bounty, flowering over the arbour in the back yard. The arbour is just off the patio and is a thing of beauty to behold.
In the evenings we can smell jasmin fragrance throughout the house. It makes watching television a more pleasant experience as one reaches a higher level of calm due to the fragrance lofting in on the night air.
The front garden is a wash of white at the moment. White gardenias, white lilies, white daisies. Lush green leaves and crisp one flowers; what says spring more than that? The scent of the gardenias is on the air and greets anyone walking up the driveway to our front door. The mock orange (murraya paniculata) plants are a week or two from flowering and will then add the perfume to the mix. This morning I gained a sense of spirit renewal dead heading the gardenias encouraging continuing flowering.
The birds nest plant (Asplenium australasicum) that my father gave me from his garden in the first weeks of my marriage, 33 years ago and I have carried to 6 different homses now and fed banana skins from time to time, grows lush and green in the side garden under the palm trees and I can see it from the living room window and it lovingly links me with my Dad, gone 10 years now.
There are little violets of white and purple sneaking out from the garden and into the lawn and along the edge of the pavers. Sword ferns have also escaped and are growing in cracks between paths and the house and are creeping between the patio and the house. I let them have their way.
In the back garden there are flashes of colour. Red from the potted chinese lantern growing under the arbour, tropical red hibiscus flowers, dark red Canna lilies and the soft mauve of a potted lavender plant.
That Australia touch of geraniums of mauve and pink and white and red growing in pots on the small rain water tank stand near Mr FD’s study window . Our salute to Australian culture of eras past, when everyone had geraniums growing in tins on tank stands never ceases to make me smile as I hang the laundry on the clothes line to dry in the warm sun.
Bees, dragon flies and butterflies are flying and dancing and twirling in all corners. Garden spiders spin their pretty webs. The neighbour’s cat sleeps under the dappled shade of the lime tree.
A black crow helps himself to one of my just ripening tomatoes (again!) and I go out and chase him away, coming back in to complain to Mr FD about the birds getting fat on my vegetables. He tells me that they follow him when he mows waiting for the worms to come to the top of the grass. We decide we can’t beat them and laugh that at least we are feeding something if not ourselves, but I make a mental note to gain the upper hand someway, someday. I do not expect to win but every gardener knows that from the outset. It does not deter us from our quest though.
My garden renews me, restores me, and brings me peace, escape and solitude. Serenity grows in my garden.