A Day Off

"There was no possibility of taking a walk that day." Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte, 1847).

Have a look at my rainy backyard winter garden.

Every week I get the gift of a day off from work.

As well as studying at my local university, I also have a day job four days a week. I usually plan to cram as much as I can into my day off, but when I woke this morning to the sound of rain on the window, those plans are quite easily shafted to another day in the hazy, far away future. Procrastination is easier on rainy days because I like to stay home and enjoy those feelings of being sheltered safely and warm and cosy in my house while the weather is grim. Hot drinks, comfortable clothes, a little moment for reading and watercolours in my journal and the ever present need for study and online zoom tutorials. 

There were plans in my day to take the dog for a walk around the neighbourhood nature reserve but those have been quashed by the weather. Instead she lies contentedly at my feet. My dog does not like the rain so she won't mind missing her walk today. 

Zoom meetings can be problematic, but my Linguistics class is one I look forward to every week. The content is challenging me enormously, but our lecturer makes the class so interesting it's quite fun. It continues to amaze me how the limitations of language influences our culture. 

Plum Tree sprouting pre-Spring buds.

I made lemon muffins for the kids when they got home from school and sat down with a latte to do a little nature journalling which has been sadly lacking from my life lately. The little rosebush outside my bedroom window grew rosehips this year and I always think they're so cheerful in the winter. I recently learned that during the Second World War when Germany cut off England from food imports, and unable to grow their own citrus, rosehips were gathered and made into  rosehip syrup which is very high in Vitamin C. I remember my grandmother making Rosehip Jelly and it has a lovely flavour.

Now that the evening is drawing in and the children are home from school, with dinner out of the way, I'll work a little on my assignment and then I will settle down to do some more of my jigsaw. Jigsaws are so relaxing to me and I often put something on to watch or listen to while I'm doing it. 

At the moment my newest entertainment obsession is Mudlarking.

If you haven't heard about this before it is an old, old profession that goes hundreds of years back in London where people made a living off finding valuable items in the mud along the River Thames. Nowadays of course, it is just a hobby but it's so interesting the things that people find. Some things date back to Roman times. If you're curious about it, here's a little introduction video. In a couple of months I hope to review the book mentioned in the video. One day I hope to try it out for myself in London!

Narratives in a Garden

 Generations pass while some tree stands. 

Sir Thomas Brown 

Recently while visiting my Aunt she took me on a tour of her garden. Just a little retirement garden now, but I recall the expansive country gardens my Aunt once commanded, but it wasn't the size of the garden that struck me.

What struck me was the familiarity of the garden. When I say familiar I don't mean that it looked or seemed the same as her other gardens, but because it is a garden built around connections with other people. 

A cutting taken from my grandparents' garden, a garden ornament gifted by a daughter, a river stone from the farm. It's the same in my mother's garden. Every time we go there she has to show me the rose bush cutting she took from the gift given to me by a friend when my second child was born, or the raspberry bushes that flourish in the corner of the garden that came from my childhood home in Marlborough, or the bean plants from Beryl next door. Every plant has a story. Every plant has a connection with the narrative of life.

It got me thinking about my own garden and the treasured plants I have managed to save as we have moved around the country so much over the past 20 years. A hydrangea cutting from my cherished childhood holiday place in the Marlborough Sounds, or roses gifted by friends. Let me show you a few.

Aunty Marjorie's Plant

Just a few months before my husband Rob's Aunty Marj left her home in Auckland to go into a rest home we visited her one afternoon at her house. As we were heading out the door she gave us a cutting of this plant growing at her front door and thrust it into our hands telling us it was given to her by a friend and she's always had it in her garden, that it wasn't very pretty and tended to take over, but she wanted us to have it. Now it flourishes in our garden and she was right - it does tend to take over.

You can just make out the plant behind Rob and Aunty Marjorie in this photo. This was the day she gave the cutting to us. I have no idea what it's called - it's just called Aunty Marjorie's plant.

Diane's Lemon

In my garden I have a lemon tree gifted by my sister in law when we moved into the house we built. When we had to leave there, we transplanted it to the new place and it's flourishing nicely.

A plant is always such a nice gift. We call it Diane's Lemon Tree.

Nana's Pig

Nana Spencer's terracotta pig. Nana always had this either at her front door or her back door with a succulent growing in it. In my memory it is always there in the garden as we left Nana and Grandad's place and they'd come to the fence and wave us off - always waving until the turn in the road when we were out of sight. 

The Life Tree

After Rob survived his cardiac arrest in 2017 we wanted to mark this second chance at life by planting a tree. One of his favourites is the Gingko tree, so when we moved to the house we are currently in, we planted one in a corner of the garden. Right now, in the middle of winter it is bare but in the summer it is a beautiful green and Autumn turns it into a bright gold.

Roses

Then there are all the beautiful roses we have planted around the house. Roses have a special significance for us - from the Sally Holmes that was gifted when our daughter was born, to the Birthday rose, to Blackberry Nip gifted by cousin Grace.

I recently learned that a garden with connections to people and places and events is very cultural to the Maori side of my heritage. When I heard that, it made so much sense to me. That's why my Mother and Aunt and Grandmother always tell stories around plants in the garden. It's built into our culture, an inherent part of who we are as people.

Maybe it's built into yours too. I'd love to hear if you have stories with plants.

A corner of my winter garden at home.

Book Club - Light Rains Sometimes Fall

Because of my desire to be come more aware of my natural surroundings, much of my interest in nature also extends to literature.

Our lives are increasingly becoming more frantic and busier, juggling all kinds of responsibilities and it's actually extremely challenging to slow that down and take moments out of the day to notice the natural world and environment right outside my window. Challenging even more so if your life is in the suburbs or city.

For me I felt that getting to know the seasons better, the plant, bird and insect life around me should be part of my daily routines. Not to just get in my car and drive down the streets of my leafy, hedge-lined suburb and take for granted the micro worlds moving and changing around me.
Part of this personal revolution was joining The Nature Creative, the practice of journalling nature and in one of the monthly book suggestions, this book was recommended. It instantly appealed to me.

Light Rains Sometimes Fall written by Lev Parikian follows an ancient Japanese tradition  of micro seasons. Instead of the four main seasons that we know, Japan celebrates 72 micro seasons - watching for, and noticing the tiny micro changes in nature that lead us through the year. But Lev's book is set in England and it's a beautiful hard bound book with a dust cover. It's lovely to hold as well as read. 

Back Cover

Lev Parikian writes his observations through the covid pandemic when he is confined to home for some of the time and you get a lovely glimpse into English weather, plant and bird life and seasons.

The chapters are short and beautifully written and have delicious chapter titles such as:

Lavender Assumes Massive Proportions 

or

Swifts Arrive

I am transported by the chapter titles of Dragonflies Lay Eggs on Water and Evenings Draw In.

You can buy the book here and follow the author on Instagram or visit his website.

Listen to my reading 5 minutes from the first chapter.

Tinyordinarydays · Light Rains Excerpt