Letter to... the sower

Today I am linking up with Sabrina and Ruth with their “letters to…” prompt. They have been studying the parables of the Bible and decided to incorporate this into their weekly link up.

This week - a letter to the sower... The parable can be found here in Matthew 13.

 

Dear Youngest Son

Today you helped your Grandad in the greenhouse and although it wasn’t your favourite way to spend the time I hope you will one day look back fondly on your afternoon.

As I stepped in, taking your place when you got bored, I remembered a time in the garden so very long ago when your Grandad entrusted me with my own patch of ground. 

I was younger than you are now and working towards a badge for Brownies. It may have been a passing phase for me too, I can’t remember my interest lasting more than one season, but recently I’ve come to love the garden more and more. 

You appreciate things in a different way as you get older, one day perhaps you will understand.

Watching plants grow is amazing, especially when you know you have played a part in the nurturing.

Digging the soil, sowing seeds in a row and a splashing down water from the watering-can. Simple really.

Some plants grow regardless, weeds spring up out of nowhere, how dare they grow so fast and strong? Holding back the green shoots you have planted.

You have to take care to pull them out, not easy when their roots run deep and you have left the garden untended for too long.

And sometimes the things you plant just don’t grow. Wrong type of soil, too wet, slugs, birds or you just neglect to water them and take the proper care. 

But seeing something sprout that you have planted and watching it flourish against the odds is so satisfying.

A few years ago I planted something that looked no more than a stick but it has grown into a magnificent sweet smelling honeysuckle and every year it flowers it brings a smile to my face.

Youngest son, I don’t expect you to understand all these things now – the things your hold dear and "grow" are so different, like collecting diamonds in a virtual mineshaft. You were so upset when they were wiped out, like a gardener whose entire crop has been devoured. There was nothing I could do or say to comfort you.

Whatever you decide to “sow” and nurture in your life I hope it produces good fruit. That at the end of the day you can rest and watch in wonder as it grows.

Just as I watch you.

Mum x

To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow - Audrey Hepburn

A new season - an old problem

We never had much of a winter this year. At least it never got really cold and we never had snow. I’m really thankful for that I can’t cope when my car gets stuck on the drive and I feel trapped. It reminds me too much of those very early days, not coping, falling apart – days best forgotten but I know I never will entirely…

I much prefer spring with the daffodils blooming and the garden coming to life.

But as everything starts to grow again a fear starts to rise, a task lies ahead which fills me with dread. 

I know that all too soon the bright sunnier days combined with the inevitable wet weather will make the grass spring up.

We have no guinea pigs to nibble at it now, although I’d need a whole army of creatures to munch its way round my lawn.

There’s at least half an acre to mow but we do have a sit on mower so it really shouldn’t be a huge problem.

But every year I dread the day I have to start the tractor for the first time. It’s a reminder I am on my own, this is not supposed to be my job, I never wanted it to be. It’s the silly things that push you over the edge and make you crumble.

(A friend bought me this card year for last year’s anniversary just because it amused her.

She didn’t know that Andrew had a special cap which said “lawnmower operator”. He used to wear it when he cut the grass, looking a bit like this picture – although he never rode around shirtless. I still have the cap – it’s the only thing I have left which smells of him!)

Recently I’ve been waking up early, worried thoughts running through my head, what if this year the lawnmower doesn’t start, what if it gets stuck in the wet ground, what if it runs out of fuel, what if… what if…

My thoughts become more and more irrational as they invariably do in the small hours.

I’ve been putting it off but the house is on the market and I have to keep on top of things. Everything needs to look great for a perspective buyer. I can’t have a single thing to put them off and jeopardise a sale – see how easily my thoughts spiral.

As I said the other day my best friend is away this week and her husband is usually the man I call on to rescue me. My friend laughs as I flutter my eyelashes doing my best damsel in distress routine. I texted her to say I probably needed her husband’s assistance once more on their return.

Then I thought this is ridiculous!

I have cut the lawn before – this is now the fourth summer since Andrew died and the lawn mower has never been in better shape.

It had a new battery fitted last year and has been serviced. Andrew never took such good care of it but then he would have been able to manage if it broke down, well at least he wouldn’t have broken down alongside it in tears. He might have sworn a bit a lot though!

So with fresh resolve and a quick prayer I unlocked the garage, checked for fuel and started the engine.

Once I got going I wondered yet again why I worry so much. Why I let the little things paralyse me. I quite enjoy riding around making swirly patterns in the grass. 

And now I am certain everything is in working order I will once again pass the job over to oldest son who is more than capable of filling his father’s shoes. You can see from the photo above I only did the top lawn - his task is to finish the job tomorrow.

As I said we didn’t really have a winter but over those months I’ve stored up all my fears and worries. The unravelling threads have knotted like a tight ball in my stomach.

I doubt myself and my abilities; it’s probably why I’ve stopped blogging so much too. Confidence is a very fragile thing and I’m not quite sure what knocked it off balance somewhere at the start of the year.

But cutting the grass today by myself is a step forward, the house is on the market and things will change. 

Maybe slower than I’d sometimes like but perhaps in the end things are moving as fast as I can cope with!

Getting the house (and garden) in order

When Andrew died I had a feeling that I needed to get the house in order. I've dabbled with a few bits here and there over the past two and a half years but looking round this week there has been quite a lot of progress.

The kitchen now has its first coat of emulsion...

My bedroom finally has a new carpet...

And the garden is beginning to grow in a neat and tidy fashion...

I can't take credit for much of the above, I've had lots of help for which I am eternally grateful - and you know who you are!


However this week I have contributed by...

• stripping some wallpaper
• painting some windowsills
• spraying the weeds on the drive
• and going to the tip for the very first time on my own to dump the old carpet!
• as well as doing lots and lots of cleaning up, mopping and hoovering!!!!

OK so it might not sound a great deal but this is progress and considering how low I've been feeling recently I'm going to enjoy my achievements and share them with you.

On the other hand my writing has suffered as I have written NOTHING! So now I desperately need to redress the balance. In some ways I am writing this to convince my brain I do now how to string a sentence or two together.

But don't for one minute think I live in a tidy house - maybe one day I will take photos of all the messy rooms and cluttered corners!

if a picture paints a thousand words...

I walked around the garden in the snow and took these photos this morning.

I was going to write about how much I am missing Andrew at the moment. The snow has triggered all those feelings of helplessness again.

I wanted to tell you that yesterday I cried but I can't find the right words and I don't want to plunge once more under the icy depths of grief.

But I need to share, I need you to know that some feelings never go away.

However I suspect you already know that grief NEVER really ends. It lasts a lifetime and not just a season.

There will always be days as cold as ice.

But the sunlight make things sparkle....

...and there is always hope for a brighter future if you look hard enough!

Forever Autumn

We have a big garden with lots of trees which subsequently means lots of fallen leaves at this time of year. 

Forever Autumn by Justin Hayward has always been one of my favourite hauntingly beautiful songs and these days it seems more poignant than ever.

This War of the Worlds classic has been given a makeover along with the rest of the score updated for a new generation with Gary Barlow taking a lead singing role of the narrator while Liam Neeson takes on the speaking narration originally immortalised by Richard Burton. Snippets I’ve heard of the new album on the radio are superb.

Whether it is because the Gary Barlow version of the song is being played a lot on radio two or just because the song is embedded in my subconscious from years ago I don’t know but it is my ear worm song of the moment.

The summer sun is fading
As the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here

I watch the birds fly South
Across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear
I wish that I was flying with them
Now you're not here

Like the sun through the trees
You came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

Through autumns golden gown
We used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lay undisturbed now

'Cause you're not here

A gentle rain pours softly on my weary eyes
As if to hide a lonely tear
My life will be forever autumn

'Cause you're not here

At this time of year Andrew would get out the tractor complete with leaf sweeping attachment and process up and down the lawn, clearing the autumnal debris.

Last year oldest son and I devised our own method which worked but wasn’t the most effective. The sweeper wouldn’t turn fluidly, many years of neglected maintenance by Andrew the most likely cause and I never got round to giving it the proper dose of TLC getting it properly fixed.

While I was away I challenged oldest son who was staying with his uncle for the week to have a look at sweeping up one dry day.

One look at the sweeper and they realised it wasn’t up to the job so it is now languishing in my brother-in-laws garage awaiting repair. It needs a bearing that oldest son was supposed to be researching on the internet!

As if it’s ever going to happen?

Once more I needed another solution, a new tailor made way of doing things that suits me and my capabilities.

My gardener came up trumps with the suggestions of a large push along sweeper.

Far better for the environment, the fuel need to power it is me and I function well on tea and biscuits, much cheaper than diesel.

It also has the added advantage of being lighter. This year we have had a heck of a lot of rain, the ground is more sodden than ever before. A heavy piece of machinery would quickly churn up my lawn and ruin it. It may not a lawn of Wimbledon standard or Wembley quality of turf but that’s no reason to treat it poorly.

I can lightly skip across pushing the sweeper, collecting the dead leaves, leaving behind only dainty footprints and lush green grass. 

So I’m once more being a bit fanciful with my fairytale language but as I sweep I sing...

Those fallen leaves lay undisturbed now

'Cause you're not here.

...and despite the melancholy lyrics the task suddenly doesn’t seem so arduous.

Five Sentence Fiction - Flawed

I love this picture Lillie posted to go with her Five Sentence Fiction prompt this week, the tree looks like it has it's own personality and it's so menacing, or maybe it's just the sky that adds to the drama?

Anyway I used the picture as well as the word FLAWED for this week's story. 

It took a little while until I was satisfied with what I had written, would love to know your thoughts...

 “We can get rid of that straight away,” she exclaimed pointing to the twisted tree devoid of life slap bang in the centre of her new garden.

Her husband smiled benignly to the gardener, a look that implicitly said, what she wants she gets … but try and keep the price down.

The gardener nodded sagely, knowing all too well the flaw in the plan; axe, fire, flood had all been pitted against that tree and it had powers no one had a right to mess with, the locals said it was cursed but this pair weren’t from around here.

He watched the woman as she stridently paced out her fantasy garden, Japanese water feature, flower beds, orchard; she threw out her grand plans in such a manner that he was surprised it didn’t all magically materialise there and then!

With a wry smile he considered the project and a reasonable quote for his labours; it might be kind of fun to find out just who would win this battle.