Blooming wonderful.

Today, I had the most wonderful walking companion
and I realized how many similarities there are between gardens
and friendship.
Both take years to cultivate, from a tiny seed grows a huge friendship
but there will always be a need to look after and cherish both.
Compost and water to a plant is equivalent to thoughtfulness and love
for a friend, not to mention sunshine, I think both need a solid dose of that.
In the garden there are plants that have been there for years and just remain
solid and unmoving, even if you neglect them for a day, a week or a month.
Some plants sadly never flourish, some succumb,
but we tend and love them nonetheless.

There are the annuals,
they come and go and we love them for what they bring
to life for that period. They grow quickly, bloom and then die back,
leaving us with happy and colour-filled memories but never a sense of loss,
we knew they were only passing through.
The perennials live on a bit, sometimes surprising us with their hardy ways
and eventually we just love that they are still growing, even if they
are becoming woody.
Some plants send out ‘runners’ in all directions,
in the same way as some friends
create links to other like minded people.
Invariably the ‘runners’ grow close to the original plant,
so we always know where to find them.
There are wonderful surprises that grow from difficult times,
like the blooms that swiftly appear after fire or flood.
So too do people miraculously enter your life
at times when all seems to be lost.
Sadly from time to time there are weeds that come through, leaving
only a short lived hole where it had been.
Then there are those that flower and blossom abundantly and often,
they fill everyone with warm and fuzzy feelings always,
never seeming to have been anything other than spectacular.

But the ever memorable inhabitants of the garden for me are the trees.
The old, regal and ever growing trees that each year get more substantial,
offer more shade in summer and protection from the rains in winter.
Those same trees that you have loved since first you came to know them
and become the reason you love that garden.
Likewise, those friendships,
the ones that have endured the hard times and flourished
in the good times are what makes life so beautiful,
to be able leave the garden and return 15 years later,
to find that the same tree is still flourishing
even though it’s boughs have been pruned
and the storms have battered and reshaped it.
It is still standing, as majestic as ever.
I walked with one of those strong and dependably ‘trees’ today.
It was perfect. Thank you.

Rainbow heritage.

Whilst it is said that monarchs and their heirs and spares have blue blood, I can’t help but feel terribly sorry for them.

I always knew that they were on one of the most restricted social diets in the world but really … what happened to all the other colours of the rainbow?

In Cape Town we have one of the most colourful political, economic and creative societies in the world but that is before we have begun to take note of our surroundings. Colour, colour everywhere and as many shades and tones of each as is possible to count.

Is it any wonder then that we Capetonians have rainbow blood coursing through our veins? Just one visit to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens at virtually any time of the year will convince you that there could never be another city in the world to beat this one. From deep Magenta through the spectrum of colours to Indigo and Violet, they are there, and all the shades in between. Yesterday I went for the best kind of walk, the first of the autumn rains had set in for the day and the gardens were virtually deserted, the tourists had headed for the glass house and only the occasional lone walker and resident Guinea fowls, Egyptian geese and gardeners were out in the rather ‘moist’ conditions.

The flowers were glowing, dripping with crystal-like droplets brought by the rain. Nothing was going to rain on their parade, in fact the dulled down colours of the sky were the perfect foil to show off their best faces.

The smells in the forested areas reminded me of my childhood, growing up in England, where my parents would take us walking in the mossy, humus rich woodlands. ‘Delicious’ is the only word I can find to describe the smell that come back to visit me all these years later.

This garden, that celebrates it’s 100 year anniversary today, with a traditional Garden Tea party for all it’s Botsoc members, must be one of our most remarkable treasures, open for all to see and enjoy. For all who live in the shadow of Table Mountain, who have rainbow heritage as our greatest heirloom, my hope is that our rainbow blood will forever be passed down from generation to generation, for 100 more years to come.

And then another 100.

The wind beneath my wings.

Two years ago life took on the biggest and most challenging task to date,
a journey of self discovery and acceptance began with the daily lesson,
“To be with what is.”
I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia,
seemingly a chronic state of physical dis-ease, unrelenting pain
and to a degree mental disability, as huge fatigue settled in.
This has without doubt been the biggest challenge of my life as an active
and very demanding life quickly became a very quiet and self reflective time.
Also as a runner realistically it meant big change.
From plus or minus 50kms of running a week to 0…
BIG Change indeed.
From full time illustrating to not being able to open a clothes peg
with my dominant hand, these have been the daily tasks to overcome.
From Dr. to Dr. test to test, physiotherapist to chiropractor,
specialist to alternative medicine… I have the badges and bills.
But before this begins to sound like a violin concerto,
this is the point of reflection that made me want to share this time
with you, always there has been an angel in the wings,
always there has been a sight to remind me how many people have
so much bigger mountains to climb, so much harder roads to travel,
that there is always the little voice in my mind,
(that of my kids origin I am sure) which just said it so simply,
“deal with it” or in contemporary language “just suck it up.”

And so I hit my solitary “Road less travelled” and walked, explored,
smelt many roses (and photographed many natural gems.)
I have discovered new wonders, learned to love again this magnificent city of ours
and did things on my own with such ease as I got to grips with the challenges.
This week I found the moon floating in a canal,

a forest of trees on a beach
and enrolled my first group of drawing students.
One amazing week,
I have tackled my first delicate drawing,
found such solace in the mighty pencil
and went to a movie for the first time on my own,
(something I never believed I could do!)

But this is the acid test, today I dug into the darkest part of my cupboard
and hauled out the ‘on sabbatical’ running kit,
and with footwear intact, felt the joy of “The wind beneath my wings.”

But here is the thing, I have found home, it is inside of me,
so simple and yet so hidden from view by the business of life.
It is inside of all of us.
Running with the wind, I sang as I ran.
(Though also as my kids would remind me, nothing like Bette Midler!)

“Thank you, thank you, thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings”
Now it is time to soar, like an Eagle, so high I can almost touch the sky.
Thank you, the person who found my missing link, thank you.
You are the wind beneath my wings.
Never say never.