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

Waiting for Spring

Winter lingered long this year, an unbidden guest that has outstayed its welcome. Days after the last clumps of snow have melted on the ground, the chilly temperature dragged on bringing with it frosty mornings and thick mists hovering over the City of Seven Hills. 

It was a landscape so different from a year ago when as early as the end of February, the snowdrops have already fleeted away in hibernation and crocuses in their vibrant colours - violent, white and yellow - carpeted the grounds of Hillsborough Park. Along the pathways, rows of tulips and daffodils have sprung up, their flowers ready to unfold in a few weeks time. When we came back a month later from our extended holiday in Central Europe, they were all gone, replaced by the cherry blossoms in full bloom. 

Where autumn speaks of tragic endings, spring evokes hopeful beginnings that when it arrives, it wipes away the memories of the colourless winter days just gone. Perhaps the long wait for spring is in fact character building - it teaches you patience and gratefulness. Patience to carry on until the end of the dark tunnel and gratefulness for the light that awaits you there. 

A Planter or a Builder?

“Are you a builder or a planter?”

It was hardly a pick-up line but that was the first question he has ever thrown at me and I was too flustered to answer in his native language the conversation never really took off.

As a group of friends, we were crossing the Strait of Gibraltar from a weekend in the Moroccan capital of Tangiers. We were discussing the merits of the Brazilian author Paulo Coelho and he has just been persuaded to read Brida which he was leafing through and where the difference between a builder and a planter was discussed.

I have since made up for the mental block and have since married the man who has made our garden his creative refuge. It doesn’t have to be sunny or warm, rain wouldn’t keep him away. It’s one of those things that make him “like Papa” and for which he is rather proud of (proof that “You marry your father”).

Thus, our idea of a weekend of relaxation is a trip to the local B&Q or for a more expensive treat it’s a visit to the Garden Centre. I love those outings. I get to pick which plants we get to have although they usually gets vetoed as they don’t suit the soil we have or they won’t get enough sunlight needed to survive (what do I know of those things?). I also do my bit of gardening too (without getting my hands dirty) by pointing out which flowers had to go to which pot and where to position them in the garden. Then of course, I get to take the photos when the flowers bloom!

“In his or her life, each person can take one of two attitudes: to build or to plant. Builders may take years over their tasks, but one day they will finish what they are doing. Then they will stop, hemmed in by their own walls. Life becomes meaningless once the building is finished. Those who plant suffer the storms and the seasons and rarely rest. Unlike a building, a garden never stops growing. And by its constant demands on the gardener’s attention, it makes the gardener’s life a great adventure.” Paulo Coelho, Bride

A Garden That Blooms Every Day

I don’t get an occasional bunch of flowers to surprise me, I get to have a garden that blossoms everyday. Love is not about grand romantic gestures but little things that keep the spark alive. 

Sun's Out in Our Garden!

In England, the sun doesn't come out too often so when it did, guess who was the first to grab himself some sunshine!