Autumn in my garden

I love, simply love Autumn and Winter.

At no other time of the year do I feel more energised, more in tune with the natural world.

I listen to my work colleagues grumble about the rain or the cold, or the clouds and wind.  I listen and I pity them.

 I spend more time in my garden through the autumn and winter than I do in the summer.

 My magnolia doesn't seem to mind the winter.....

 The rain stays glistening on the plants all day....

My walnut tree plays games with me... I gather up the leaves and as I pass by it sneakily drops more behind me.  I know what is really going on.... it wants me to stay out there and keep it company - I love that tree.

The cyclamen start flowering...

 Rain wets everything and leaves adorn everything...better than any xmas decorations....

 My potted camellia blooms giant flowers that dwarf the plant.... how marvelous!

Naturally I love my garden all year round.  But at this time of year it seems to speak to me.  Its quiet grandeur, its complete disregard for my son's regular (albeit grudging) lawn-mowing, its timeless march through the decades; all make me feel like it has condescended to allow me to be its guardian.

And I am a willing disciple. I would pick those leaves up one by one and by hand if I could.  Sometimes I do then I place them underneath the balding canopy so as to preserve the cycle of life and let the leaves protect their mother with their mulch.

If you stand still long enough the protective cocoon of the life around you blocks out the traffic, the dogs and the sounds of civilisation itself.  The leaves crackle, the ground sighs as you step on its soggy dampness, the air whispers in your ear.

Love Love Love

I wish I were a tree......

Oh, I wish I were a tree,
majestic, soaring free;
my tips to touch the sky,
scolding birds that pass me by.

I wish my roots were deep

to anchor me in sleep
when monsters scream my name
and memories inflame.










I wish my leaves would fall
and shed bad memories all;
so I could bloom anew
in Spring's fresh morning dew.



Yes I wish I were a tree
so you could look at me
and know just what it takes
to overcome mistakes.



My bark's a history
of storms that battered me,
yet holds me up in place
to join the human race.







Oh I wish I were a tree
so none could bother  me,
but even for a tree
the chainsaw waits with glee....

Marlia Boyce January 9, 2012