A little bit of Heaven created from chaos

Before and after.....

The garden is quite small, south facing, divided into areas each with a distinct character of their own. The patio by the house is Mediterranean, with a herb bed, a potted olive tree, a blueberry bush and a Himalayan Honeysuckle, which makes a dreadful mess just outside the back door but is a favourite because the birds love its berries in the winter. The grassy square, insufficiently grand to be called a lawn, is dotted with daisies, the odd dandelion and wayward violets in the spring. One brick-edged flower bed is a cottage garden, full to bursting with foxgloves, stocks, cornflowers, Japanese anemones, forgetmenots and poppies under a pollarded willow, with a well-clipped daphne whose dense foliage hides a blackbird's nest.

Another bed has a carefully tended cloud tree called George, an arbelia, the only surviving plant from when Son#1 had a brief flirtation with gardening. (Sadly, no girlfriends have lasted as long.) George shelters experiments from garden shows or stately gardens, polite young plants that are given a home, usually temporary, to be admired and cossetted before being assimilated into the rest of the garden.

Leylandi have had much bad press lately, but the six trees crammed across the bottom of the garden are a great asset. They not only create a mini-woodland with primroses, periwinkles, lily-of-the-valley and violets, a lovely shady area with a gurgling fountain and sculptural tree stump, but a family of blue tits have taken up residence in a nesting box, collared doves and wood pigeons have nested in the upper branches, along with blackbirds, thrushes, dunnocks, robins, sparrows, even a little wren. A toad lives by the fountain and a family of mice have taken over the hedgehog house, so it's quite a lively area and a source of great interest to Cat.

A tiny courtyward area that was once a pile of rubble is now a beautiful oriental fantasy, with a rock garden, pebble stream, iron lanterns, a red acer under a 'Golden Showers' climbing rose, a few clumps of spikemoss and miniature bamboo, a variegated myrtle cloud tree and my collection of bonsai. I love this part of the garden most when it is lit by candles under a full moon.

Creativity

A friend dragged me away from work for a session of sketching, the first time for ages that I've taken up my pencils. Before I start to beat myself up about how little art work I do these days, I thought about the ways in which I am creative through the decisions I make ... like ....


Neon finger nails, orange or green? Carpet of humble lobelia under the clematis or the more exotic Thalictrum Aquilegifolium? Cut offs or capris with the hoodie? Mint or coriander in the salad? How short should the fringe go?


More seriously, in debatable order of consequence - Cloze sheet or multiple choice for the next lesson? How to balance the bank account? What new course of study next term, Chinese or CAD? Should I get a new car? What cat minding arrangements to put in place for the next holiday? Has the time come to move house?


Less obviously creative - What time to set the alarm to get up in the morning? Should I play truant and have a day at the beach? Which book should I choose to read? Shall I do the ironing? Learn a new move in tai chi? Daydream?

Over a hundred years ago, James Allen put forward the theory that our thoughts create our reality. If this is so, then life is a series of creations, the result of every decision we take. I choose to create a reality that is original, imaginative, inspired, artistic, original and innovative, whether I take up my pencils or not!

Road to Nowhere

Cliff path at Hartland Point

If you like this photo, you can see more at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2003253&id=1364274011&l=eea6f4d81d

Friends and Family

(i) My sister who cares enough to refuse to allow me to be less than what I really am.

(ii) Daughter #1 who supports me in everything that I do with love and understanding.

(iii) Sifu who tolerates my mistakes, encourages my successes and recognises how hard I try.

(iv) Little rescued cat who sits at the end of the sofa and licks my toes.

Fear ... and NOT doing it anyway

The hottest day of the holiday weekend, perfect for the local fete. Sifu organised a team of people from kung fu and kick boxing to give a display and I let him and myself down by not taking part. There were many reasons for my decision - I don't like performing where people I know, especially students from college, might see me; I'm not good enough and would let the side down; I'm so much the 'odd one out' I would spoil the line-up; my lack of ability would reflect badly on Sifu. It's easy to make excuses but, being honest, the bottom line is that I was too scared of making an idiot of myself in public, which has surprised me as I thought I had long gone past caring about what other people think of me. This fear is in direct ratio to the value I place on my martial arts training - if I didn't value it so highly, it wouldn't matter so much to me.

Perfect moments

Sunshine is rare... a day to enjoy it even rarer. I slept late then sat in the garden with my tea and 'Weight', Jeanette Winterson's version of the myth of Atlas. Is there a better way to spend an hour or two than relaxing in a secret world you have created yourself, bathed in golden sunlight, with a book that challenges your long-held views and gives the gift of fresh insight?


Well yes, actually - four or five hours lost in such peace. The real world seems a much more relaxed place afterwards and the benefits of time out can linger far out of proportion to the hours invested in being self-indulgent.

Bad night

Four hours sleep is NOT ENOUGH. I know all the tricks - relaxation, visualisation, acceptance, non-acceptance, high pillow, low pillow..... last night nothing worked. As I staggered to work, I needed a change in mindset. I had to believe that the day would be fine. All I could think of was, at that actual moment, I was coping. The NOW was bearable. As the day wore on, Berocca was my first line of defence, followed by Americano with a triple shot (not sensible but it worked) and I lived through every NOW until it was time to come home.

A good moment to start the day

Driving to work this morning, a stag ran out of the forest across the road in front of my car.

Dancing and prancing, he showed no fear at all - he was King of the Road.

Texture

There is a small bed at the bottom of the garden, less than 1 x 2 metres, containing

• waxy lime green flowers above the spear-like dark green leafy fingers of a hellebore
  
• huge flat elephant-ear leaves of bergenia


• misty-pale prickly oleander bush


• tremulous curling leaves and tortured stems of a corylus contorta


• bank of glistening variegated ivy

Perfect!

Visit to the hairdresser

This in itself is a rare occasion as long ago a snipper showed me the correct way to cut my fringe myself, which means I only go to a professional twice a year for a trim. I couldn't get an appointment at my usual salon, so went to the Hair and Beauty department at college. It was a revelation - such a calm, relaxing atmosphere - no bad language, testosterone, smelly bodies, computers, stress, all so diffferent from the masculine world of engineering.

The course director keeps a careful eye on what is going on and I chatted to her about my two inches of regrowth as I would like my bleached ends to blend with my natural hair colouring - the poor woman was embarrassed to tell me... 'but your natural colour is..... (whisper) grey.....!!!!!!' I hardly like to go back, not because I am ashamed of my lack of pigmentation, but because of somehow letting the side down, not quite meeting the high expectations of the lovely ladies of the world of beauty.

A beautician I spoke to recently said the single most important factor for not appearing to age is being 'girlie'. This conjures awful visions of OAP's giggling in puffballs, but that's not what she meant... it's about attitude and sensibilities, which I need to be more aware of as this side of my nature gets supressed by the not-so-elegant safety boots and goggles of my working life.

State of ACHING BODY

Three hours training tonight - tai chi first, 24 Step, such a challenge. How to be a Snake when you're actually more of a hippo?

As for kung fu, the warm-up is getting more like a physical work-out. I am perfecting my own versions of kick-squats and jumpy-leaps, even star jumps (minus the bob to the floor) as a concession to my age. I am tremendously proud when there's something I can actually DO like a stretch or a kick .... or san dao (shadow boxing) which I particularly enjoy when I partner Sifu, who is so skilfull, he makes me look good. My progress is slow and most of the youngsters overtake me, but I'm currently learning Tiger as the last part of my Blue Belt grading.

Tai chi is my first love, closely followed by dao yin, both of which I have no intention of ever giving up. I don't pretend that I will be able to continue with kung fu for many more years, but as long as I can keep going, I will. The other students are very kind to me and I love being the Group Grannie, as any woman who has ever been behind a dozen or so fit young men in silk trousers will agree.

Feeling sorry for the assistant who had to put all the clothes back on the rails

Shopping. Can you be busty AND pear-shaped? Add 'vertically challenged' to the equation and you can guarantee you won't find a single garment that fits.

Why do clothes shops have those mirrors usually reserved for the Fun House at fairgrounds? Even if you do find something vaguely buyable, it always looks awful.

But today was fun. Sale time, pick of the shop, 4 garments for £20. Daughter#1 and I tried on HUNDREDS! Silk tunics with wide plaited belts, chiffon blouses, sequined shifts, zippered hoodies, harem pants, floaty frocks..... it was an orgy of colour and style. Being neither a) tall nor b) slim, NOTHING fitted.... we left empty-handed and consoled ourselves with large glasses of wine and comforting plates of pasta, perhaps not quite the best way to tackle the cause of the problem.

State of NO MIND

Some discussions can be difficult.

Me, delivering a load of hyperbolic waffle about the book I'm reading being asked, 'What's the book called?' .....


The title?? oh.... it's .... got 3 syllables...... ummm... transparent.... colourless.... I know!
IN-VIS-I-BLE.


Just like being asked about the name of a character, it's... well, it begins with P... Peter.... Patrick... got it!!!! It's Kelvin....


Or even worse, talking about a group you like and someone asks what is your favourite song by them and you have NO IDEA.

Thoughts of someone who is Old Enough To Know Better

I have a diary for work... I keep a diary for my own stuff..... I use an on-line calendar... there's a family calendar to keep us all organised.... I write a journal every night... now I want to blog???? WHY???? At this rate I'll spend more time writing about life than living it.