I love colour…
Take Cabbage. People tend to associate Cabbage with a ‘boring’ food. Just look at it growing in a new light though, and the rich purple contrasts against green in the most vibrant way.
Thankfully, Spring is here. Admittedly, it’s been a turbulent one so far, with its surprise snow, and determined angstsy rainstorms. But when is life not like that!? Welcome the storms of ice, rain, sunshine, sand and rainbow…
It’s time to see the colour in the so called ‘mundane’, once again!
Watering cans. I am going to need watering cans, and LOTS OF THEM! But first, it will probably make sense to reclaim the plant pots!
I have just left a kind of prison. I was never arrested, charged, tried or convicted. Yet still, for three months of my life, I lived, ‘imprisoned’. While I write this, I even ask myself: Do I mean this metaphorically? Initially, yes, I did. Then I reflect, on how I have lived, for those three small months.
Those months should have felt small, and they were (or will be) ‘small’, in the long run. In years to come, they will shrink down in significance, and the ‘footprint’ left by their boot, will be scaled into something similar to insignificance, by the great, green, giant months, which I will plant, and bring into full bloom, starting from today.
The day I moved out of that ‘homeless person’s temporary, interim accommodation’. A tower block, stretched like a club, into the sky. Not like the intricate, webbed branches of Trees, which seem to sing into the sky. No, the Tower Block pounds into the horizon like a ‘Thud’. The life within mine was stale.
Try comparing that to the life of an old Oak! Those Acorns are only part of the reason, that the Oak Tree harbours life, so much the opposite of stale. Try asking a Squirrel: “Oh, Squirrel, sir? Erm, I was wondering, who are you going to be feeding that nut to?”. To be frank, you might actually get more of an answer out of the Squirrel in your mind’s eye now, than you would get for an answer attempted by those empty, personless walls, around you in a Tower Block flat, or ‘holding cell’, while you wait to be rescued by the chance of a new home.
So no, I don’t mean ‘prison’, in the sense that I was literally behind bars. There is a darker, sadder, story behind my ending up in such a desperate place, though. I was a victim, yet in the (endless) months which followed the attack, I felt as though I were the one, being punished. Playing ‘prisoner’, while I await that trial, while I wait for the day some Crown Court Judge can somehow ‘lift’, from my shoulders, spirit and heart, that weight, the crushing weight, of dark cloud looming.
I am now free of the Tower Block ’emergency accommodation’. Now, I have a space, where I can begin to sleep again, live again, sing again, dance again, work again…
But most of all, now I have a place where I can GARDEN AGAIN!