York England 2016: Day Two

Our travel editor for the West Australian newspaper, Stephen Scourfield, wrote about touring around England in last Saturday’s travel lift-out. I feel that I could qualify for having similar tales published, particularly with all that we saw and did in York last year.

Stephen even mentioned the squirrels – see the little fellow that we met, along with pigeons (or are they doves? I never know the difference.

One of the things I love about England is the abundance of parks and the fact that they are well cared for, with well-placed trees and clusters of shrubs and flowers, especially when you arrive in spring, as we did.

The Museum Gardens are situated about two minutes walk from our accommodation and are the most direct route to the centre of town, so, whenever possible (the gates are closed every night) we walked through it, coming out at Museum St on the other side.

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Spring in the Hills

Spring is here again, and my camera has been busy, so today, instead of York in England, I have to write about my garden in Glen Forrest.

The view from my bedroom, into a private courtyard which is now finished, is already a delight and in a few weeks, when everything blossoms, it will be heavenly. From my study, where I write these blog posts as well as my short stories, poems and the latest novel (about halfway there), I am inspired by nature, which often includes a friendly goanna and lots of birds.

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Friends In My Garden: Hyacinth and Peony

Life has been hectic for the last few weeks, hence my lack of postings on this site. I am keen to return to the travel tales from England but for today, I hope to please those of you who enjoy my poems, especially those from my first book, ‘Friends In My Garden.’

Hyacinth was written for a friend who lost her daughter in tragic circumstances. It was the kind of situation from which a mother would never totally recover but this lady was/is always graceful and composed. Whenever I read this poem I think of her with love and admiration.

If you know someone who bravely bares a tragic loss, you might like to share this poem with them.

HYACINTH

Hyacinth is a fragile flower

sometimes seeming aloof

in her need for seclusion.

The colours of her petals change

from purple on the sad days

to whitely unobtrusive

when she’s hiding from the world

or palest blue

in times of her remembering.

For the memory and the loss

will always remain

despite her efforts to hide the pain.

The image she presents

of calmness and restraint

is it a facade?

I think I hear her crying

in the emptiness of night

when she’s alone with her sorrow.

She’s determined to not falter

but I should remember

to tend more often

and with more care

my saddened, delicate hyacinth.

Peony was written for another brave lady. Sadly she didn’t manage to overcome cancer, but she always looked elegant and despite her condition, she was determined to live life to the full. I only really had one meeting with her but was so impressed that I sat down as soon as she left and composed this poem in her honour.

‘Friends In My Garden’ was published in 1995. Sadly, my Peony died about a year later, but I still think of her. It’s a sad poem, but I wanted to express my admiration for her determination and for the joy she radiated, despite the suffering she must have endured. I hope that my words give comfort and encouragement to others who are facing serious illness.

PEONY

This morning there appeared

a flower I’ve not seen before,

a peony.

The climate here is harsh

for so delicate a plant

but to see her blooming

you’d not be aware

of her struggle for survival.

Elated,

blossoms in profusion,

the image she presents.

I know she lost her petals

felt her trunk grow weak

but sun gave her warmth

rain fell softly on her leaves

the one who cares

for flowers and trees

nourished her with love

and hence

today

she came to grace my garden.

UK: Chelsea Flower Show People

Every year they wear these coats , bought many years ago.

Fancy dress for the occasion.

Co-ordinated in stripes.

As promised, I have some interesting characters to show you this week. I think gardeners must be a particular breed, often rather eccentric, especially the English variety and we found several of them at the Chelsea Flower Show last year. I have Susanne to thank for most of these photos.

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UK 2016: Chelsea Flower Show

When planning our cruise down the Dalmatian Coast and parts of Italy, I allowed for a few days in Paris, (which I hope you have enjoyed reading about) but we had to be in England in time for the Chelsea Flower Show. I think this was my fifth visit and it was my sister’s second, but it’s always different, always a day of bliss for me and for any gardeners from anywhere in the world. Susanne and I took over a thousand photos each, so I’ll have to do this in sections, selecting a few of my favourites to share with you.

Brilliant colour was the first thing that wowed us as we entered the huge tent full of prize winning entries. Aren’t these stunning?

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Friends In My Garden: Butterfly and Magnolia

Today I’m in the mood for poetry so I’ve gone to my book, Friends In My Garden for a selection. Two very different characters, but both written for women who inspired me and brought joy into my life.

Butterfly is the sort of friend who pops in with chocolates and champagne when you’re feeling down. Her smile and her laughter brighten any space when she appears. I hope you have several butterflies in your friendship garden and I’d love you to share my words with them.

BUTTERFLY

There’s a butterfly

happiness yellow

in my friendship garden.

A ray of sunshine

spreading warmth whenever she appears

always bubbling full of fun and laughter

that bounces

grows.

I love her sparkle

her cheek

her zing.

When friends are down

in she whirls

a glow of yellow

to brighten our hearts.

Magnolia was written for the sort of woman who rises to the top in her field. She’s a leader who others want to follow. Please send this to the Magnolias in your friendship garden.

MAGNOLIA

Magnolia has an air of grandeur.

She’s courageous

and tenacious

with a heart as soft as moss.

Occasional bouts of jealousy

are sparked by lesser plants

weeds that endeavour to starve

or choke this lovely tree.

In stately manner

she disdains their poisonous pettiness.

Others are inspired by her,

the elegant stance

the leaves

rich and glossy

the brilliance of her flowers

creamy white

and luscious.

I think she’s quite magnificent.

Friends In My Garden: Oak and A Time For Tears

The following poems were written for a man I once thought was the centre of my universe. It’s almost nineteen years since I shed those tears and I’ve found new, strong and lasting love. This post is for those of you who think that your life ends with the loss of one love. It changes and you change but it can get better. You just have to pick up the pieces (probably best to discard the not so good ones) and face life again. As usual, please pass one or both of these on to anyone you think might like to read it/them.

OAK

Rooted firmly in the ground

my oak

is tall and strong

protecting creatures

that snuggle into his trunk

and hide in his leaves.

Wide he spreads his branches

and so high

his canopy is sometimes in the clouds.

I sit in his shade

and lean on him.

His bigness can be overwhelming,

too long in his shadow

I shrink and fade

then I need to walk in the sun

content

secure

knowing he is there

in the centre of my garden.

A TIME FOR TEARS

Flowing like a waterfall

these tears I shed for you.

At night I wake to wrenching sobs

my pillow wet

my soul bereft;

I want to sleep forever.

Do you cry too?

Does guilt grip you with remorse

for leaving me

for what you too have lost?

Perhaps one day

my heart will mend

my tears no longer fall.

One day I might not

think of you with sadness

but after forty years

I know there’ll never come a time

when I can say

‘I don’t love you anymore.’

Friends In My Garden: Exotic Bird

I hope that many of you have at least one person in your life who fits this image of a good friend. Mine has been a bit off colour lately so this is a tribute to her, to remind her how much I appreciate her.

Please feel free to send this poem on to the exotic bird(s) in your garden of friends. My words are free for you all to enjoy and share. If you would like to leave me a comment that would be great, thank you.

EXOTIC BIRD

Exotic is my little bird

gorgeous her plumage

of brilliant emerald

and sapphire

and the richest ruby red.

She’s something of a loner

rather shy

and quiet until she sings,

then she leads the chorus.

Her voice fills my garden

with the sound of crystal music.

I love to sit and listen

not only to her song

her words are never wrong.

We share a tranquil moment

rest for a while on a bench

chat about friends and daily affairs.

A peck on my cheek

a feathery wave

and she flies home to her nest.

Friends In My Garden: A Cute Little Snowdrop

The following poem was written for one of my granddaughters when she was about four years old. Many other grannies bought my book because they had their own little snowdrop – a sweet child with blonde hair and that entrancing giggle we hear from a happy little girl. Mine is now in her twenties, a charming young woman, she still fills my heart with joy when she comes to visit my garden.

If you are fortunate to have a Snowdrop in your garden of friends and family I hope you enjoy this poem and that you will pass it on to your own Snowdrop even if she is no longer little.

A Cute Little Snowdrop

A Tinkerbell laugh

an ‘Aren’t I beautiful?’ grin.

Pretty petals

soft and light

purest white

little snowdrop

shakes her head

shimmers her leaves

twirling and dancing on tippy toe

swaying and bowing in the breeze.

Friends In My Garden: Wings Of Turquoise

Like the other poem which I have posted today, this was written for a friend who had been in pain, emotionally and physically. I wanted to depict a woman who was once artistic, creative, talented in many ways, but who was trapped in a marriage of violence and humiliation. It applies to any women and girls who are beaten and made to feel inadequate or worse, by men who bully them. To see such women blossom once freed from that sort of environment, gives joy to my soul and theirs. Please pass this on to anyone you think might benefit from and appreciate it. The words are mine but the message is for everyone. As always, I would love to receive your comments, especially if this poem gives courage to someone you know.

Wings Of Turquoise

Is this the same bird I once knew,

a dove beige pale and sadness grey

of shrivelled soul

caged in fear

feathers pecked

and head held low

to hide her pain?

Now she glides on wings of turquoise

golden tipped

a shout of sunshine in her laugh

her eyes sing ‘Joie de vivre.’

Fly high my friend

now free now strong

love your life

delight in your dreams

soar on winds of happiness.