Silent Sunday

 

Silent Sunday

How Does Your Garden Grow

I step outside my back door and into my garden. Blue skies lift my spirits after watching the lunch time news. I promise myself I wont watch it again as I shed a tear for a brave fallen soldier. My damp eyes are drawn to the lonely tyre swing that is hanging from the muscular branches of an old Eucalyptus tree. I gaze upwards. The sun glistens through the leaves and warms my face. I feel this old tree comforting me, as his huge presence leans over me with a wise, knowing face.

I potter about with my old wooden trug, weeding as I go. I check on my seedlings that have suddenly started to poke their heads up through the soil. As I lovingly run my fingers over each one, I notice that I have lost a few to slugs but I'm happy to share.

I love that the weather feels warm enough to be outside. I glance up to the sky once more and spot, grey fluffy clouds forming, as they patiently wait to deliver refreshment to my garden. I feel droplets of ice cold water falling heavy onto my face. I hurry to gather up my washing that has been enjoying the freedom of drying in the fresh air. 

I slam my back door shut and shiver as a chilly cold touches the back of my neck. I fold my washing and watch the rain fall from the window at my kitchen sink. I open my flask of hot tea and sip the warm contents as I gaze at my wet garden. Ten minutes later the rain stops and I return to my pottering, an activity that soothes my soul as I quietly reflect.