An Early Morning Dance

Standing on the back step, underneath an umbrella, mug in hand watching the rain.  It was a beautiful scene.  The wooden garden furniture had taken on a different hue.  In the rain the wooden seat seemed to glow as it was washed by the rain.

The rain drops were dancing on the glass table, making a dance as they tapped their way along to the edge.   A bucket had been placed strategically to catch the encore of the dance.

Looking up at the seomra or man shed a spider’s web glistened in the early morning light.  The gossamer web was bejewelled with drops of rain.  There was magic all around as this suburban garden was dressed by the rain.

The air smelt so differently.  It was so fresh and clear.  It was as if the rain has rejuvenated everything.  There was a richness abounding this oasis.

It reminded me of a blog post I read recently written by Honey Barapatre which talked of being rich https://inspireart.in/2018/07/15/being-rich/.

I realised that this morning I was so rich with the sights, sounds and smells brought by this shower of rain.  I have always loved the rain but perhaps because of the long hot dry summer which Ireland has been experiencing this shower of rain was even more special.

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Summer

 

I am not a summer person.  I think I spend more time inside during the summer than at any other time of the year.  This year has been so warm that I have hibernated and enjoyed my hibernation.  Books, books and more books interspersed with football, rugby and the odd film.  The anticipation of Wimbledon and the World Cup followed by the Tour de France it is just a pleasure to hibernate.

 

Now, I do have to admit that there are some lovely aspects to a dry hot summer.  It is wonderful to be able to sit out in the garden in the evening with sun gone and the air still warm.  It is wonderful to be able to go for a walk in the evening without having to carry an umbrella or coat.  No need to plan for those showers of rain.

 

A sound which epitomises Summer for me is the sound of bees. There is a hedge in the back garden which attracts the bees. It is covered in tiny flowers at the moment and the bees just swarm around it. There is also woodbine in the hedge and the sound of bees is just magical.

 

Honey Bee

This photo was taken by my husband John showing a honey bee in the garden hedge.

 

However, what I enjoy the most is being able to wash the clothes, peg them out and know that they will be dry in a few hours.  There is a different smell from clothes which have dried in the air.  And what about getting those duvets dried? Sheer bliss.  A little piece of heaven when folding those winter duvets after drying in the sun.  That smell of sunshine seems to linger.

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Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

 

Just one word of warning, if you are washing pillows please check that no minute tears have mysteriously formed before washing pillows.  I did not take adequate time to check and ended up with an empty pillow and a washing machine full of fibres.  Such is life.

 

So yes, I suppose I do enjoy summer but in my own way which perhaps is not the norm.  then again  who says what is the norm? Enjoy your day wherever you may be.

 

Be Present

Be present, it is the only moment which matters

I do not know where I got this quote or to whom it can be attributed to. It is one of those quotes which has been with me through many journals.

Every so often it comes to mind and makes me stop. It is good to stop and savour that precise moment.

This morning I was busy with lists and the things I “HAD to do.  It was the only thing I could think of.  You may know that feeling, when the rush of life overtakes?

I was hanging out the clothes and suddenly stopped.  It hit me that I was so lucky to have a place to hang out the clothes after washing them.  I was so lucky to be physically able to hang out those clothes.  I was lucky to have clothes to hang out.

I found myself carefully hanging out those clothes and being aware of what I was doing.  It was a surreal experience.  From the mundane to something special. Too often I am caught up in the things or jobs which must be done, without experiencing the joy of being able to accomplish those jobs.

Sometimes, it is good for the spirit, the soul, the person to take time to notice what it is we are doing.

To savour that moment and appreciate it.

Her Garden

The day began to appear and with it a gradual warmth which eventually would raise the temperature to record heights.  But now at six in the morning, with her hands wrapped around the first cup of the day, the early morning hours were hers alone.

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She looked at her garden with fresh eyes.  It was as if she hadn’t really seen the garden before.   Nothing had changed from yesterday.  It was still the same garden.  Or was it?

She wasn’t a gardener.  In fact, she actively detested “looking after “the garden.  It was a chore.  What would be worse than tending the garden? There were few chores which in her mind were worse than tending a garden.  At that moment in time she could think of none.

Her distaste of gardening didn’t take away from the fact that one of her favourite places in the city was the National Botanic Gardens.  An oasis of beauty no matter what the season, what the weather or what mood she was in.

 

She was a city gal even at sixty years of age.  Holidays spent in the country as a child were never ending.  The highlight being mass on the Sunday with a visit to the shops to get the Sunday Paper and a bar of chocolate.  The open spaces of farm lands always felt threatening.  There had been too much open space and certainly not enough buildings for her.

To this day the thought of having a holiday entirely spent in the countryside sent a shiver down her spine.  A planned day trip had to have a stop in a town.  It didn’t need to be a large town, but a town was a must have.  She liked to see and feel hard core concrete.  There is a beauty in the myriad of textures and colours of concrete.

Looking at her garden in the early summer morning sun she realised that the garden had become her garden with the introduction of breeze blocks, concrete slabs, rusty bicycles, tin buckets and even car tyres. IMAG1066

 

 

 

The garden had become her garden with a design which had grown over the years through the inclusion of hard, harsh, beautiful concrete.

With the cup of tea now finished and the list of “things to do” calling to her, she smiled and realised that at last she could now relax her garden but perhaps a few more raised beds of breeze blocks might be a good addition. IMAG1065

 

 

 

 

With a smile she made her way inside to wreak havoc on that “to do “list.