11 May 2018

Spring morphed into a bit of summer, there is the beginning of a drought and basically, my mood is all over the place, incl. a couple of door banging episodes and frustrated shouts of anger to the world at large.
Some days I have to dig quite deeply to find my hidden store of tranquility. But, there it is still, surprise, surprise, once I have exhausted the latest wave of fury and self pity.

My grandmother has been in my dreams, also my mother and the war and I am attempting to sort it into shape and words. But, difficult.

For the time being, there is the garden. I play no part in this, I just watch. And eat.










9 comments:

  1. Lettuce does not usually entice me but that picture of yours makes me want to run and get the vinegar and olive oil because that is all it needs.

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  2. Such a beautiful garden. Yes, watch, eat, dream. And then come here and say hello. Wishing you more tranquility, even if you have to rail at the fates to get there. Love.

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  3. Thank goodness (or any god that does it for you) for the respite of your garden,

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  4. Thank you for these beautiful pictures. I hope your dreams will culminate in a post because I am so curious.

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  5. So many layers of experience, Sabine. Always. Along with the garden flowers, I loved seeing the green and white variegated plant once again after seeing a group of them in the garden photographed by 37paddington in New York (at least I think they are the same plant).

    Just came across this quote by Dante Alighieri:

    Three things remain with us from paradise: stars, flowers and children.

    Sending love.

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  6. Your garden is a beautiful balance to all those things that make us shout and slam doors. We are not as far along into spring here as you are there. Soon...very soon.

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  7. I love hostas. The photos are lovely. My garden is slowly waking up.

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  8. I'm sorry to hear of hour frustration, pain -- all of it. I think shouting and slamming doors sounds healthy. I myself periodically think of being on a ship that is sinking while I play a tiny violin.

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  9. Don't downplay, or even dismiss, fury. It's evidence of disposable energy. All that's needed is a little re-direction and lo! you're Manet (or is it Monet?) in his garden. On the edge of impressing others.

    I see I'm second in the queue here, that Elizabeth got there first. Reflect on her adjective "tiny". Whence did it come? It's not at all obvious.

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