Winter here in Australia. And as in life, a tiny vibrant bloom in the midst of dull, dreary winter, can bring so much delight.
What attracted me to this flower, apart from its vivid colour, was that it could almost be mistaken for a butterfly. Well, it just takes a little imagination.
And gardens are places of such inspiration and imagination.
This is only the second bloom of the eucalyptus silver princess, the last gift my mother gave me before she died. To see the rich blooms is awesome. I wait in anticipation as the little gumnuts pop their tops.
How thrilled I am that the last gift given to me by my mother, prior to the end of her earthly journey just over three years ago, is so robust it billows skywards, sways but does not break in whipping winds, and blooms beautifully. (Upon reflection, these could be the features of a well-lived life!)
The bright autumn leaves are beginning to fade. Time to make way for winter. But whatever the season, for each of us, it’s time to plant seeds of hope.
Not unlike the seasons, our own lives, are cycles. Sometimes they are full of natural grace. Other times it feels as if we are bracing against life’s icy winds.
I watch two families I am close to caring for elderly parents. (One with dementia, the other with bodies which are simply wearing out.) Being a carer, you often feel you are way behind: there’s so much more to do — a cycle without end.
Yet even in the bleakest of times, there are moments of natural grace, moments which stir the heart. And sometimes that can be as simple as a smile of recognition, words of inspiration, or a quiet moment on the porch watching leaves sparkle in the sunshine.