Problems in My Paradise

  

I want that plant which purifies air. Don’t talk to me about clove oil for mould; it’s toxic to cats. (Yes, mould is toxic too, but it will do us in slower.) There’s nowhere close to find the plant. It’s classed as a weed. Then a local woman on facebook advertises a whole lot she’s giving away. I don’t even wait to put on make-up or a bra. 

I wonder if I’ll be able to find the place. Just as I step in the car it starts to rain. ‘I’m having an adventure,’ I tell myself. 

daring –

driving anywhere new

at my age

I choose the smaller box, more than enough for my tiny space.

‘Will you have help the other end?’ she asks me. I say a cheery no. 

‘What will you do? Take a bit at a time?’ 

‘Something like that.’ And it is what I do: piece by piece out the back, one-handed, holding on to walls and railings as I go.

Enough! I’m proud of myself. I go indoors for a coffee.

Next day my cleaner comes. I tell him I’d like some planting this time, instead of mopped and vacuumed floors. He’s willing. Soon I have a row of tall, mottled leaves standing up like spears against the back fence. 

People on facebook warn me it’s invasive. But that garden bed is edged with wooden slats, boxed in. Besides, this is just to keep it all alive until I can get some pots and potting mix. I need the stuff inside the house! 

The cleaner sweeps my back veranda too, and washes down the pavers that cross the yard. 

satisfaction –

directing operations

others perform

Friends tell me it has wonderfully strange names. I look up Wikipedia. Snake plant, Saint George’s sword, mother-in-law’s tongue, viper’s bowstring hemp … 

Oh-oh! I discover this too is toxic to cats! I’ll have to buy an air purifier instead. Meanwhile – oh well – I wanted easy-care plants in my garden. I’ve got them now.

a little knowledge –

I introduce snake plant

into the garden

In Winter, Camellias

In winter, camellias bloom.

(Japanese roses, I was once told.

I don’t know if that’s true, but

I like to think it. It makes them

for me a symbol of Reiki healing, 

which began in Japan … although

it really began in the far-off first

morning of the world.)

In winter, camellias bloom.

A friend brings me a red one 

from her garden. I have

the perfect vase. In a home

cluttered with books and papers,

I place it in the centre of my kitchen

on a plain wooden board

on top of the 'island'.

In winter, camellias bloom.

Another friend arranges them 

for when I visit, around 

the edges of a big shallow bowl:

alternating deep pink and pale.

Then she gives them to me.

I find two shallow plates, one

for each colour. They float serene.

In winter, rejoice! Camellias bloom.

Shared today at my Instagram profile and with dVerse OpenNight #387.

Cheers

 

She brings me 

mandarin liqueur,

the fruit grown

in her own garden. 

I pour it into

a crystal sherry glass.

(All my liqueur glasses 

are broken or lost – except 

the one I keep as a chalice

in my travelling altar:

a sandalwood box with also

a tiny dagger, incense,

a round white stone, 

a small quartz point,

a woven cloth

to set them out on…)

 

The texture is lush, the taste

bursts on the roof of my mouth

both rich and delicate, spicy

and sweet. I breathe it in.

Sharing with dVerse Open Link Night #388