adornment

A long time ago one of us sent the other a photograph of a quotation which read 'to cultivate a garden is to walk with God'. I had been contemplating our own garden, meagre but never-the-less faithfully producing spring flowers. A sense of reward after the waiting, the cultivating, the slow walk of winter, as I studied the unfolding petals of the milk yellow tulips. Reminded that the process is so important and the flowering so beautiful. Later a friend gave me these flowers from her own garden. As I walked home the electricity box and the dark brick wall seemed so bare. They seemed to cry out that they too wanted to take part in the spring blossoming. Perhaps an unsuitable resting place for the flowers, a small subversive act to place them there but somehow they seemed to fit. Or maybe to adorn something unsuitable with such extravagance is not so strange after all, more like an act of grace.

first flower

First flower, marking the rhythm of the seasons, heralding the coming of spring, its name a reminder that winter is not yet flown. The delicate white a contrast to the dark damp earth. A patient garden that didn't forget its promise, even when the blossoming seemed too impossible to believe. This garden in the middle of the city, this small promise hidden away in a central courtyard. A quiet beauty, worthy of a steady gaze.

pots and pans

Pots and Pans

A countryside retreat - in the tiny chapel we sang an English hymn,

words written by George Herbert.   His words an unexpected thread

repeated in a foreign land and a reminder of the gold to be found in

the ordinary things.

Teach me, my God and King,

in all things thee to see,

and what I do in anything

to do it as for thee.

A man that looks on glass,

on it may stay his eye;

or if he pleaseth, through it pass,

and then the heaven espy.

All may of thee partake;

nothing can be so mean,

which with this tincture, "for thy sake,"

will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause

makes drudgery divine:

who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,

makes that and the action fine.

This is the famous stone

that turneth all to gold;

for that which God doth touch and own

cannot for less be told

wind and willow

Sunday morning, our rooftop quiet after another busy Saturday night in

our neighbourhood; our home still as our little one slept; peace

descended and the brisk winter wind played with the sun kissed willow.

  I felt like I was the only one awake in the city, discovering a

secret, capturing something beautiful that would soon be hidden in the

rush and tear of the day.

moments of light

A wintery Sunday afternoon walk, the sunshine casting long shadows, creating images that leave no trace. Something so beautiful that can

only be seen in a moment, perhaps tomorrow the sun is a little higher

in the sky or there is a cloud obscuring the light.   This beauty

lifts my spirits as the January ground lays quiet.

new beginnings

Starburst

Night's sky

Bright morning sky

New day

New year

Fresh hope of things to come