Monthly Archives: November 2018

Two unexpected autumn gifts.

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It was a little damp for sweeping leaves, but the apricot was shedding its gold over the public footpath and we didn’t want passers-by slithering at the corner, so out came the broom.

Perhaps it was the dampness that brought it out: a distinct scent of apricot rising from the leaves! I never noticed that before. Let’s hope it’s a promise of harvests to come.

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A few days later, as I went to lock up for the night, I noticed the remaining leaves glowing and dancing in the lamplight. (I wish I could say moonlight, but she was obscured by low cloud.)

A silent disco; people pay good money for such entertainment!

And so to bed.

 

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After a visit to the dentist.

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I came out of the dentist to a beautiful sky, so I walked round to Whitstable beach. We are looking NW here, London is to our left, Margate and Belgium to the right. The shadow is one of many breakwaters that form part of the defences of the town which was badly flooded in the 1950s.

But there’s no defence from the sky unless you ignore it! It can only bring blessings to the town, and to those who stop and stare.

Can Spring be far behind?

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These tulips were in Amsterdam last Spring. The four companionable colours have stayed with me but I’ve left it a bit late to reproduce this planting.

Suddenly this fortnight  Canterbury has woken up to the reality of Autumn, with cold and rainy days. When I called in at the L’Arche garden I saw that somehow the top few centimetres of compost had been removed from the pot in which Abel and I had planted some tulip bulbs, rescued when the city council were disposing of the winter bedding before replanting for summer.

I suspect blackbirds may have removed that compost, but it showed me that the bulbs were in growth, 5 or 6 cm of white roots already seeking out water and nourishment.

If Winter comes can Spring be far behind?

Passion Flowers.

Our Victorian forebears were rather taken with the language of flowers and could semaphore their feelings through a careful choice of blooms in a posy. Hence the pansy, or pensée in French, signalled, ‘you are in my thoughts.’

Mrs T and I visited Chartham village with Abel. After he had played on the roundabouts at the village green, we wandered into the churchyard for lunch under the trees.

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Our Victorian forebears, if they could afford it, erected finely carved stones over their loved-one’s graves. Without much effort at all we found these three carved with passionflowers which represent the saving death of Jesus. There are ten petals for the ten apostles who did not deny him – leaving out Peter and Judas. There are five stamens representing the five wounds; three stigma for the nails, and the fringe of filaments around the flower stands for the crown of thorns.

All this suffering somehow mirrored in a beautiful flower. And by carving this flower over their dear ones’ graves, the three families were proclaiming belief that the dead would rise again with Christ. A good thought and prayer for November and All Souls.

 

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