Tag Archives: garden

All the small things.

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Over the last couple of days, I have felt a return to my ‘normal’ self (loose use of the word ‘normal’ there).

My energy levels have been up and stayed that way. The pain in my feet/ankles and hands/wrists has significantly reduced, almost to the point of being negligible.

As a result, my head space has been better. And when I say ‘better’ I actually mean I am feeling euphoric. And I have realised it’s all the little things that I have been missing.

Being able to give my hair a good scrub when washing it, without pain shooting up my arm.

Being able to lift a full kettle of water to make my tea.

Getting out of bed in the morning and not nearly collapsing from the pain in my feet.

Driving! That small loss of independence has taken it’s toll!

Carrying a plate of food with one hand.

Lifting a saucepan full of vegies off the stove.

The little things we take for granted every day, mean so much when they are gone.

And so I have looked about and realised a new appreciation for the other small things that have the capacity to bring me joy.

Like our garden. We don’t have an ideal place for a veggie patch, so have had to make do with the good ‘ole styrofoam boxes.

Little things like our first strawberry.

Beetroot poking it’s head through the soil

And baby spinach reproducing at a profuse rate

We also have other veggies and herbs that are growing at a cracking pace, too. Not an award winning garden, mind you. Just simple homegrown yummy-ness :)

I feel a sense of renewed wonderment at the world around me. The simple pleasures of hearing my daughters laughing down the hall way and walking into the bathroom to discover a full manicure session in progress. A simple ‘love ya!’ from that boy of mine at the end of a phone call. Listening to my sister recounting the shenanigans of my two year old nephew and the sound of his voice saying “Auntie Oosie”.

So many ‘insignificant’ joys to be found, if we simply stop to look. Give me the little pleasures any day :)

I don’t know how long this heightened awareness will last. I hope I manage to hold onto it for a little while.

And if I don’t, please feel free to remind me of this blog post :)

PS. My friend Alison wrote wonderfully about the small things recently on her blog – go here to read it – little tiny things

Survival

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For Christmas, my husband gave me five rose bushes. Since moving from our previous house, where I had rose bushes, I have missed having these beautiful flowers to cut and bring inside or give to others. As you know, it rained a little bit over the Christmas/January break. Roses aren’t too fond of copious amounts of water, so we weren’t surprised when we had a casualty.

It makes me think about how some things/people survive adverse circumstances and some don’t. All the rose bushes had the same amount of rain during that time, all were healthy and all were treated to the same planting technique. Yet, they didn’t all respond the same way.

A bit like us. We can go through the same thing as others, yet it can take a bigger toll on us and vice versa. For some of us, when we go through tough times, a little bit of us dies; we harden our hearts, make resolves that may or may not be healthy, we shut a little part of us away to avoid future pain. All natural, normal responses to trying circumstances.

And sometimes the losses are more tangible than that. Sometimes we lose businesses, relationships, friends. And some of us will shrivel up and die inside, while others will pick themselves up and move forward.

Often, if we allow it, something new will be born to replace what we have lost. And sometimes that new thing is wonderful and glorious. And sometimes, it’s risky. Risky to open up to someone after being hurt; risky to keep going with your dream in the face of criticism; risky to start up a new business when the floods swept the last one away.

Recently, we purchased a replacement rose bush to join the little collection that is now thriving in our garden. Here is the first bloom from Rose Valencia.
Beautiful, isn’t it? We could have just left the space where the first rose bush was, empty. We could have just settled for having one less. But we didn’t, we took a chance that even this late in the season, a new rose would flourish and survive.

Look what we would have missed out on, if we hadn’t taken that chance.