“Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying…and every day on the balcony of the sea wings open fire is born and everything is blue again like morning.”
~ Pablo Neruda
The middle of March brings us heady glimpses of spring and the heart lifts in hope, even if winter has not completely vacated the premises just yet. Here in Saluda, this old house of mine is filled with sunshine-yellow forsythia branches in large glass vases: out in the front yard there’s a garden cart overloaded with ivy strands and rose prunings. Remind me never to plant ivy again! The green monster has taken over one of the front yard areas; although it’s pretty, over the years a tangled jungle grew underneath the spirea and spreading rose bushes.
It’s a painstaking task to sit there patiently and pull out strands of ivy—while avoiding the roses. Despite occasional painful run-ins from those armed and dangerous thorny rose canes, it’s rather like a puzzle, requiring patience and a slowing down of mind. I find myself taking my own free advice that I give out often: go to the garden and just be grounded in sunshine, nature, and listening to birds. Simple, but true.