The grape vine being drowned on the patio
The summer is most definitely leaving us; although we had sunshine this morning, by this afternoon we have had another torrential downpour and a thunderstorm. The leaves are starting to turn and fall, the roses have black spot, many of the shrubs are overgrown and need a good trim. The evenings are drawing in - theoretically sunset is at 8:00 o'clock today, but it's pretty dark by 7.00 on rainy days like this.
And yet, and yet ... Today was also the first time that Alec and I have been out for a pub lunch for six months; something we used to do every other week - at the drop of a hat - just suggest it and within the hour, we'd be off for a pint and a sandwich. Now we can’t be spontaneous - it has to be booked in advance and is experienced with vast spaces around each table, spacing stickers on the floor, reminders about social distancing everywhere, and very few visitors to the bar.
Something that we took very much for granted is now a great treat - especially when somebody else is cooking what turned out to be a delicious meal! (Butternut Squash Tagine with pitta bread for me, with some very delicious stolen chips from Alec 😊 )
The roadside stall of plants and garden carpentry just 100 yards from the pub is also open again - in my excitement I forgot to take a photograph of it in situ, but here is the loot I collected today - four pots for 5 pounds, including a hardy Geranium, an unusual Campanula and two Iris foetidissima. Once again, something I took so much for granted is appreciated all the more for having not had access to it for such a long time .
And even though the rain is pouring down, and the plants are all starting to look ready to go to sleep for the winter, look what is positively flourishing amongst the autumn borders - an even greater abundance of blooms on the Gertrude Jekyll than I showed you several days ago; far more than through the summer, and I think as a result of the downpours really soaking the roots in the very poor soil. (I owe it to her and all the other roses to pile on the manure over the winter - they deserve it!)
The online booking issue from last night most definitely has not resolved itself - I've spent far too much time today hanging on a phone listening to a recorded message that ‘the team are still busy’ - I think it must be a team of one, but I'm actively trying to put it aside and allow the balance of far more of what my dear, departed friend Fran used to call The Sacred Ordinary’ tip the scale towards seeing the day as a good rather than a bad one.
It’s all a matter of choice.
The world is a very disrupted place at the moment, both politically, environmentally and physically (and of course, they are all interlinked) - but I really believe we can ground ourselves in the simple act of just looking for small things every day that have made our lives better rather than worse; recording them in the pages of a Gratitude Journal gives me something to look back through and remind myself of the brighter moments if a grey day really does cause you to struggle. Whatever comes up - this too shall pass. But if you keep a Journal, you can hang on to the good stuff, and when everything else has fallen by the wayside, on the page, our grateful memories can remain and sustain.
Even when it includes a river down the road!
Journal prompt
what are the signs that you can see that the year is turning? What are you sad to lose from this season? What are you looking forward to in anticipation in the next? In this uncannily normal/not normal daily life, what have you been able to start doing again that was disrupted over the last few months? What small things do you know appreciate that you barely noticed before?
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