I’m a bit sick of myself at the moment – I’m having a bit of an injury-prone Covid-isolation! But then all who know me would say that’s because I go at most things like a bull at a gate.
C’est la vie! It just means I can’t walk as far and as fast and that I’m more of a couch potato (which I have to say I hate!) which means a chance to continue on writing Reliquary and that’s fine because the story is ratcheting up.
Lockdown continues, albeit quite fluid in my part of the world. We’re allowed to shop, to attend medical appointments and to go to work in those businesses that haven’t been shut down or opted to close. For me, life goes on. Nothing much changes except the freedom to do what I want whenever I want.
It’s Day Whatever of Which week in What Month. Or so it feels. Mind you, the garden doesn’t care what day it is and I suppose as gardeners, we shouldn’t either. We’ve had a couple of days of wind and so there are blotches of red and yellow leaves all over the lawn and because the weather has cooled dramatically, so trees and shrubs have realised it IS autumn so most of my offerings for Six on Saturday, are richly coloured.
Firstly our Guelder Rose – Viburnum Opulus has begun it’s change. The shrub suffered badly through the drought and we think we’ll cut it back by a 1/3 to fill it out a little. It’s a bleached crimson and I love the way it blends quite green leaves as well as coloureds.
White nerines about to burst. We have these dotted around the garden simply because they bloom at this time, giving a spike to the garden.
One of our row of Japanese maples. They were planted for their rich red branches but somewhere along the way, the red has vanished. Nevertheless, look at that amber colouring!
One of our two giant fifty year old liquid ambers. I LOVE the flow of colour through the trees, from pale rosé to the richest shiraz or cab sav.
Then the blood red of our blueberries. This is by far the most spectacular. Wow!
And finally our saffron crocuses are beginning to bloom. I foresee a little harvest.
Head over to Mr. P’s blog to see the northern hemisphere in its spring glory. It beats Covid-19 News any day.
This week on SoS, I’m offering two gardens.
The state of one is the direct result of Covid-19.
We’ve been in lockdown with borders closed for quite a while here in my state of Tasmania (Australia). If one had a shack anywhere, (a second residence on coast, rural or highlands), one could stay there for the duration of the lockdown, only venturing away for food, exercise and medical requirements.
It’s similar to the UK, I believe – Stay Safe, Stay Home.
I barely even know what day it is anymore as one socially isolated day merges into another.
I believe it’s Good Friday. Traditionally a nice day spent catching fresh fish for dinner and cooking a spunky dessert for us all to enjoy.
Life’s so edgy at the moment. So filled with flux, change and anxiety, that sometimes, an adventure, especially one that one hasn’t asked for, can certainly give one something else to think about.
Yesterday, we had to go to the city from our coastal home. We went armed with the relative papers and it felt like a WWII movie – documentation in case one was pulled up at the border!
On my island, we have yet to go to lockdown, even though we were the first state within Australia to close our borders. We still have freedoms that I’m sure my friends in the UK and USA crave and our Covid-19 figures are light by comparison. But every day, more become ill and the rules strengthen. We adjust as best we can.
Over summer, I was caught in a beach rip and despite that I’m a good swimmer and know all the rules, when I felt the strength and speed of it, panic poured over me like the waves that were part of said rip. Simply, I thought I might drown.
I draw a comparison with the way the world is being dragged along in the Covid-19 rip tide. We all know we should adjust, keep calm and go with the flow, but it’s hard, isn’t it? The constant state of flux, the bad news.
Golly, I certainly didn’t think I’d have any plants to talk about but because of the C-Virus, and our island declaring a State of Emergency and shutting its borders, I’ve spent a lot of time in the garden, doing the autumn cutback.
It’s been wonderful, I’ve found:
For the first time in eleven books, I’ve got a reduced desire to write.
The airwaves are so saturated with the war against the C-Virus and the inevitable casualties, that one feels quite exhausted when one walks away from the media outlets.
I’m as anxious as the next person about the pandemic but like most, we give ourselves a measure of control by disinfecting our house, washing our hands (copiously), observing social distances and being grateful for small mercies. To be honest, our lives haven’t changed that much apart from not being able to buy toilet paper, flour, rice and pasta. We’re not social butterflies and lead a family-oriented life and so far, in our state, we are still able to meet with our offspring and grandson. I prefer to think that this won’t change any time soon.
As the world begins to lockdown, the garden couldn’t honestly be a better place to spend one’s time, could it?