Berries and Birds
October 1, 2009 by Janice Hunter
Filed under Kitchen Table Space
Our garden’s not very big but it’s brought me hours of joy over the years. There’s a scrubby lawn at the back where the kids used to play, and a narrow strip of path and garden outside the kitchen window. We planted laurels, rhododendrons and assorted evergreens to cover the fence, and they’re always teeming with birds.
Garden Path by Janice Hunter (c)
I often stand transfixed as I wash dishes, watching the robins and blue tits, blackbirds and swooping starlings go about their daily business.
But I’ve been avoiding my garden recently. Deliberately avoiding it. After weeks of benign neglect, it’s become an overwhelming wilderness, overgrown with weeds and covered in drifts of autumn leaves – but not the attractive russet, red and gold ones you kick up and dance around in. These are slimy and grey and slugs live under them.
Scotland’s green for a reason, but we had unusual floods this summer. And everything’s grown, I mean really grown.
Our outdoor furniture, which used to look trendily shabby and distressed, is now sprouting flat greyish green florets of moss. Decorative miniature trees have rebelled and shaken off their self-limiting beliefs. Rhododendrons that were meant to be two feet high have doubled in size and smothered two small euonymus bushes.
Grey-green and damp, it was a perfect summer for weeds and plants, birds and bugs. A few glorious days lured us out to bask in the sun, but unexpected tropical showers were never far behind.
I ventured into the back garden this morning to collect the seed pods from some shrivelled up nasturtiums that had faded from glory, unnoticed, in a terracotta plant pot. Depression loomed, heavy as a leaden sky, when I thought of all the autumn gardening jobs waiting to be done. A month of illness, overwhelm and exhaustion can turn the sweetest of daily tasks and rituals into an soul-sapping backlog of chores.
A gust of wind in the branches, and suddenly, I caught the scent of it all; moist, rich soil, a fresh green breeze, raindrops on leaves and the beautiful mossy breath of trees. It didn’t look like a garden, it looked like nature, a bit of wilderness outside my back door, overgrown, untamed and perfect for birds.
I suddenly saw the sunset-bright berberis berries, the dangerously dark and tempting laurel berries. Clusters like hidden jewels, and below them, still thriving, the flowers of some daisy-like thing I don’t even know the name of, something I just planted because I loved how the colour blended in with all the other mauves and violets and purples back in May. I rushed in and grabbed my camera.
I stood transfixed and smiled a small smile. Life longs for life. Our happiness, our planet’s existence, depends on the tiniest of details we often overlook or take for granted while we’re desperately trying to make sense of the bigger picture.
Trees, birds and bees don’t make a mess of things the way we humans do. They don’t create slave trades, mutilate their neighbours in the name of religion, knowingly destroy their habitat or create global credit crises. They don’t get stressed by trivia or moan about blogging roadblocks. They just get on with it.
The bees follow their bliss. Flowers turn to berries, birds breed, eat the berries and spread the seeds – the evidence of their small but perfect lives. The seeds grow into the lush bushes and towering trees that feed and shelter the birds’ offspring in years to come. Nature’s bloggers.
I’m part of all this: I live, I love, I create and I try to nurture what matters, but the beauty, the unstoppable, teeming life in a tiny stretch of garden humbles me. At best, I’m just a guardian and a gardener, an observer who appreciates. All I can do is try to spread the seeds of the moments that stun me into silent wonder and hope they grow.
About the Author:
Janice Hunter is a certified homelife coach and writer. She provides soul food and support for coaches, writers, parents and homebased workers over at www.sharingthejourney.co.uk
Wonderful! …a woman who notices the same things as I:
“…and suddenly, I caught the scent of it all…it looked like nature…the beauty, the unstoppable, teeming life in a tiny stretch of garden humbles me”
Putting voice to these moments, “the moments that stun me into silent wonder,” isn’t always easy. You have done it, seemingly effortlessly. Your writing, Janice, catapulted me right into your garden, and my heart opened just as yours did.
When we shift our focus from the obvious, so many more riches appear! And these are the best kinds of riches, those that nourish our senses in such a way that we are transformed from within.
I wish you much happiness, this Fall, in your lovely and very natural garden paradise!
Amazing and so beautiful!
I loved especially when you said
“Our happiness, our planet’s existence, depends on the tiniest of details we often overlook or take for granted while we’re desperately trying to make sense of the bigger picture.”
How true!
Beautiful photos too! I am glad you grabbed the opportunity to make the most of such a blissful moment
This is just exquisite, Janice.
@Julie,
Thank you! It doesn’t surprise me that you notice the same things. You write beautifully, and are always so supportive of the folk you visit. In fact, it raises my game knowing that everyone who takes the time to visit my blog, or support me here, writes well and isn’t just a blogger. It feels like a community of writers – blogging at its best.
@Evita,
How I love that gravatar when I see it on the blogs we visit. If its your own eye, there’s an amazing amount of soul there!
It’s so easy to get bogged down and stop appreciating the details; I’ve been guilty of that a lot recently, but oh the surge of pleasure I get when they leap out at me. Did you notice the fly on the laurel berries? I got right up close to take that photo, but never even noticed it. I uploaded the photo and still didn’t. It was only when I sent it over to Karen that I did. I’m not a fan of bugs, but even they’re all part of the picture. I get loads of birds in my garden because the bugs love my neglect.
@Hayden,
You’re such a sweetheart; you know “exquisite” is one of my favourite words! There are some words that explode in the mind with richness and sensations, and that’s one of them. Thank you! (Just so you know, it makes me think of baby’s breath and birdsong, black chocolate and red wine, intricate mosaics and stained glass, patchwork quilts and carved wood, the insides of seashells and vibrant watercolours of flowers…and a gazillion other things!)
oh what a lovely post! Great blog too
What delightful little treasures!
And wow!! You are an incredible photographer.
By the way, I am having my first giveaway on my blog if you’re interested!
http://www.mooreminutes.com/2009/09/pleated-poppy-giveaway.html
Oh my I don’t know which is the better feast your words or your photos. It’s amazing what happens when we change our perspective. A miracle happens. And all we need is a little willingness. Love this Janice.
Like Julie I want to say happy fall!
Beautiful words to describe beautiful photos. Thank you for this.
Hi Janice,
I felt that I was in the garden right with you. You are so right, so much can be found in the little details that may get overlooked. That is how I choose to see happiness….it is in the details and usually nature is a great teacher.
Right in front of our place, there is a pond and there are always ducks or cranes or geese around. I often sit by the window and watch them. They just do what they have to do and none of them ever look worried or scared. We humans could learn a lot from nature.
Janice, once again I am blown away by the depth of your writing. As with most of your posts, this is the third time I’ve come back before I actually comment. Why? Because your posts are so rich, so full, that every sentence has meaning in its own right. No wasted words, and every word having import.
The picture at the beginning was perfect, as if telling the reader that they were about to embark down that lush path, right there with you.
When you mentioned being transfixed as you washed dishes, I smiled. I too, stand at my kitchen window, looking at the birds outside in the trees. My kitchen window sits where most homes have a second floor, so I peek right into the tops of the trees. I don’t even mind that this new home doesn’t have a dishwasher because of the view I am afforded.
I loved this part: ” Depression loomed, heavy as a leaden sky, when I thought of all the autumn gardening jobs waiting to be done.” I get that way at autumn tasks too, so I can imagine how daunting the job seems coming out of a month of illness. Autumn gardening is so different from spring gardening. Spring gardening has purpose, has hope, and speaks of the newness to burst forth. Autumn gardening seems so much like cleaning up after the party is over.
And then you captured the essence of fall for me: “A gust of wind in the branches, and suddenly, I caught the scent of it all; moist, rich soil, a fresh green breeze, raindrops on leaves and the beautiful mossy breath of trees.” Although fall can never be spring, this sentence tells me that it doesn’t have t be, that we can delight in the beauty and richness of fall and appreciate it for what it is.
Your ending sentence was perfect: ” All I can do is try to spread the seeds of the moments that stun me into silent wonder and hope they grow.” You are planting some beautiful, yes even some EXQUISITE seeds for us, Janice. Through you, our thoughts and sense of wonder does grow. Although I sound like a broken record, I must say beautiful post, Janice, and stunning photos.
P.S. Could you please tell the site owner that I love the choice of lavender and mint green for “The Calm Space?” It is very calming.
Thank you everyone who’s commented. I really appreciate everything you’ve shared. I wrote replies to all of you individually, as I prefer to do, and was about to do a wee edit before clicking submit when my daughter came storming in; while dealing with one of her sudden verbally abusive teenage angst-rants, the kind where I’m to blame for everything wrong in her world, I didn’t notice that my laptop was operating from the battery on my laptop and not on mains electricity. I lost all my comments and can’t face trying to recreate any of them; it would feel fake. I usually cut paste and save, but they all flowed so happily, I didn’t stop to think. Lesson learned. Time for a breath of fresh air in the garden, methinks…
Hi Janice .. isn’t it brilliant .. that smell of damp earth can bring out so much – the berries this year are fantastic .. the rains have just come down here – our leaves were drooping and the trees looking so sad .. another day and they’ll be perky again.
As you say too much to do .. but one thing at a time .. don’t worry – a good trim will see the main brush of growth disappear in a trice .. and perhaps cajoling the kids to do a bit of weeding will help – one afternoon with everyone helping and the promise of a good cream tea, or cream cake afterwards .. or fireworks if it’s done by November?!
Glad you’re back and glad I’ve found your blog ..
Hilary Melton-Butcher
Positive Letters Inspirational Stories
@Hilary,
Thanks Hilary. I’m feeling a wee bit better this week, healthwise, so I’m starting to enjoy all the sights and sounds of Autumn as much as I usually do. The kids are on holiday this week and next, so iIdo predict a bit of ‘forced labour’!! It’s a gloriously blue sky sunny day today, but freezing, so we went shopping for all those enticements you mentioned. I hope you’re giving yourself the chance to stop and breathe in the autumn and smile a bit.