The Blossoming of the Magnolias

"When every day seems the same, it is because we have stopped noticing the good things that appear in our lives." ~ The Alchemist

Like the blossoming of the Magnolias in white and pink shades, stretching out from the tree branches as though crying out to be seen. They look so dainty and innocent, with soft petals that slowly peels off and scatter to the ground, an expression of beauty dropped away. And if you come a little closer, you will smell its intoxicating fragrance - the scent of the magnolia, sweet and fresh. 

Captured by the Daffodils

My path to work used to take me across Weston Park, a daily exercise that has allowed me to witness first-hand the changing of the seasons through the periodic metamorphosis of the park’s botanical inhabitants. The few minutes I spend each day in that earthly paradise always leave me in a hypnotic trance, in awe of the Creator who made all things bright and beautiful.

In winter when most life forms are allowed to hibernate, the slope of the hill where the Sheffield University Firth Park Building is perched up looks like a solitary place. On the path by the manmade lake, two lone benches, memorials to departed loved ones, offer a refuge underneath the towering trees. But come early April and a flock of golden daffodils spring back to life, stretched in a never-ending line by the side of that hill, tossing their heads in a spirited dance. They are a sight to behold that as I cross the wooden bridge and watch their reflection on the manmade lake, I would utter a short prayer that would start my day right.

Link to Wordsworth's most famous poem: Daffodils

New Year's Day Walk

There is little joy in England during winter. 

Perhaps, if there had been a blanket of snow to cover the bleak and dreary landscape outside our window, I would have felt a little cheered up. But as expected, we had to make do with a sky who loves playing hide and seek with the sun and occasionally splashing out drizzling rain to those amongst us who cannot escape to warmer places. 

During the last day of the year, I finally cried out to John to take me out of the cold and somber walls of the old Victorian terrace that was my prison for the last two weeks, thanks to my job letting us 'work from home'. So on New Year's Day, with a weather forecast of sunny spells and a double digit temperature, we headed off to the Peak District. 

There are countless walking paths in the national park but we decided to conquer Stanage Edge, a rather impressive gritstone escarpment situated on the moors north of Hathersage. I have previously begged my husband to take me there (with no success) so that I can stand on the rock where Keira Knightley stood during a sweeping panoramic scene in the 2005 film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. Of course, I'm rather embarrassed to admit that now. 

We started off from the car park right at the bottom of the stone edges and it was a short climb to the top. On a bright summer day it would have been an easy ascent but with the strong winds trying to knock us off, it wasn't a pleasant one. 

This has not deterred a lot of people from doing the walk, in fact, there were already walking groups and families ahead of us with children as young as three jumping from one rock to the other as they marched towards the end of the 6-kilometer long plateau. 

We loitered behind, taking on the views and snapping photos using a less sophisticated point-and-shoot camera, our Christmas present to ourselves, which did not have disappointing results. This frequent stopping meant that we had to turn around halfway through as the weather condition started deteriorating. 

The trek down was easier and halfway through, we captured a rainbow as it began to fade. Moments later when we were already in the car, rain poured like there was no tomorrow. 

The British weather is not the best in the world but at least it teaches us to be grateful for the little joys in life ~ a bit of sunshine, a glimpse of a rainbow, a 10-degree temperature ~ because they don't come often, not at the same time. 

The Moon Smiled That Night

The last days of summer brings with it an air of disquiet, as any change in life often does. With the days slowly getting shorter and the gusty winds starting to accrue, it is tempting to stay indoors. And that was what I had intended to do on that afternoon in September after the chores have been done. 

But John had a different idea: the sky was clear and the sun was out that so why waste a perfectly good opportunity to enjoy the great outdoors, he reasoned.  

Last minute whims like these are somewhat made easier by the fact that we live in one of the greenest cities in Europe, surrounded by 2million trees which equate to four mature trees for every person living here. Within five minutes from our house is an open countryside called the Loxley Common, a beautiful patch of green in the fringe of Sheffield popular for bird-watchers, dog-walkers and students of geology.

So at six o’clock that day with still a few hours before sunset, we walked hand in hand along the path made by generations of walkers. The ground along the tracks is strewn by wild flowers that have grown to almost human proportions. We followed the path that led us along the slope of the hill where the heathers have fully bloomed into its beautiful shade of purple. At a lover’s seat we sat down to take on the beauty that nature so abundantly displays. Across the horizon, the top of the houses from the northern side of the city looked like pieces from a board game. But the urban flurry is lost in this piece of heaven where the only sounds you can hear the occasional barking of dogs and the random singing of birds.

We stayed there for a while and I uttered a silent prayer for the many little things that make our cup overflow and most of all, for the ability to see these blessings as they are thrown our way. 

We went straight to the local public house for dinner, a treat we seldom indulge in. It was already dark when we came out and the moon followed us to the car. I remembered reading about a lover who declared: 

"I will give you all the flowers of the mountain."

The author noted that poets in love seem to have very little notion of reality. But at that moment I knew exactly what the poet's muse would have felt , for my own beloved could just as well have said: 

"I will make the moon smile for you."

Because that night the moon did. And I smiled back.