A spring note

I'm sitting in the garden, writing this note, a cool breeze softening the afternoon heat, the only sounds the gentle tinkle of water trickling from the fountain, the buzz of bees gathering pollen, and the cheerful chirp of birds singing their song to the world.

Roses have started their first flush of blooms, and their sweet scent is in the air; butterflies flock to nepeta's blue spikes, and swallows swoop and turn in the sky in a graceful dance.

I've neglected this space for a while, busy gardening, visiting family, dreaming, writing, creating, and just being - basically, living life.

Among other things, I wrote a few articles for Breathe magazine. The first one, about lessons learnt from the spring garden, is featured in issue 72, in print and digital edition; the article includes a plant-based recipe I created using vegetables from my kitchen garden. It was fun to photograph flat lays again, and to focus on cooking, something I've always enjoyed.

Two months ago the garden began to slowly come back to life.

I made a short video capturing bulbs flowering, new leaves emerging, and beautiful frothy blossoms.

(click image above to view video on YouTube)

The blossom is long gone now, and I need to record all this glorious May growth before the garden changes once more, and summer sets in...but not just now.

This afternoon is for watching dragonflies roam around and water lilies float in the pond; it's a time for sitting for a little while in one of the pockets of shade I dreamed of for so long, with a cup of tea and a good novel, and my cats dozing beside me.

I need to do many things, but I also need to take a break from all that's going on in the world, from all the worries and atrocities, from the attacks on freedom and women’s rights, from the persecution of vulnerable minorities, from all that's ugly and painful and plain wrong, that feels like a return to the dark ages, or a race towards extinction, and that I'm powerless to stop.

So right now I choose to pause, breathe, and focus on beauty. I choose to retreat into my sanctuary, and enjoy what I created in the past four years of gardening.

I choose to go offline, stop doing, and instead focus on replenishing my inner well, so that I can continue to notice, appreciate, and be grateful for all that's good and beautiful in the world, instead of letting its ugliness drown me in sorrow and despair.

I hope you can take a little pause too, if and when you need it.

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