Finding Flowers In The Garden:: Bored At Home

I've had three days in bed. Do you know how bored I have become? I sleep. I wake. I sleep. I wake. I blow my nose. I have a cup of tea. I watch some iView. Then I fall asleep again. And then I do it all over again. 

Today was the first time I'd stepped foot outside during these past few days. That sunlight - wow! And kapow! 

The highlight was getting up to put some washing in the washing machine. High times friends, I am telling you what. Except, really, the highlight was as I was walking back inside - I found these orchids growing in what I would classify 'the ugly part of the garden'. This is the section that the landlord thought might look good with native flora - and it might, if every year it wasn't covered in a camellia heads, a wasteland of rotting petal corpses.

But these orchids were like a gift. Highlight of my day. 

What's been the best bit of your day?

PS - Sam Stone, how was P!nk??

Stealing Flowers

Spring Flowers image via Johanna Laskey

The other day I was in my garden, and saw someone out the front of our house - just outside our front fence. I noticed they were loitering, so I stood watching. They were there for a long time, and then I realised - they were picking my flowers from our garden.

Who does that?

I coughed - which was code for: "I am here, I see you, get the hell out of here - oh and PS - it's bad luck to steal flowers." 

Except this woman, with two children, kept picking my flowers - despite seeing me - she had just moved to where another shrub obscured her even further.

Now who does that? 

I know you might think I'm a bit crazy, but I walked to the front of our place - right out to the footpath, to find the woman, and one of the children madly pillaging our garden for our flowers. Finally, once she saw me standing there - she crossed the road, and walked up the other side of the street.

Er... Last time I checked, stealing flowers from someone else's garden was not cool.  

I know it's not scandalous, but I felt pretty outraged that this woman so blatantly just picked my flowers. If I want flowers, I want to pick my flowers (but I like them in the garden) - but mostly I buy myself a cheap bunch from the fruit & veg shop.

Do you steal flowers?

The Emancipation of the Garden

I spent ANZAC Day emancipating the garden from almost two years worth of weeds. It felt so good. Again. I can see where I have been - I see results. Tangible results. 


I want this to be a habit! I truly do! 


I conquered those pesky weeds, grew my own pile of offcuts, found a pumpkin vine sprouting from our compost heap; found some cherry tomatoes sprouting too. 


While I was pottering about in the garden, it made me feel connected with my family. My Mum loves gardening, I think my Dad secretly does too, both sets of my grandparents enjoyed spending time out in their gardens. Isn't it such an easy way to feel connected to the Earth - and slow down your day? 


I've now been sharing with the Doctor and Tiny some plans to plant a wee fairy garden at the front, with daisies and some prettiness. 


Because we rent, I've thought - well we rent, why would I want to garden. Then I came to this week and thought, I want to live in a space that is nice, that feels good, that looks pretty. Gardening is a two way street - and it's win:win both ways. You get to feel that satisfied exhaustion, and you can see results and feel good about it. 


Why am I so late to come to this gardening party?! 


Best of all - I found the water meter. I found the flipping water meter peeps! This is license to party like it's 1999.  It is in the middle of the front fence, and is completely obscured by trees. And weeds. Now it is FREE! 


This lady has totally inspired me. Can you imagine anything more dreamy? Nope. Me neither.


image via Daily Dream Decor

Oh Hello Darling

Camellias are in season. I love a pretty camellia. So many hues of pink. My Mum picked these for me.

I'm having my hair cut today.
It's bitterly cold.
I'd like to be in bed.
I want to bake a cake but am too cold to move from near the heater.

But the camellias are in season, and they're one of nature's prettiest creations.

A Hidden Garden

We have spent the afternoon exploring a hidden garden, trees heavy with camellia blooms, red, pink, variegated, so pretty for small fingers to peel back petals. So pretty strewn across the neatly clipped lawn.

Camellias are one of those flowers that appeal to me for many reasons, but mainly, they are just so ridiculously beautiful and I think, old-fashioned. I like old-fashioned flowers.

Image via Sazanka - a 1958 edition of The History of Camellias

Life Rolls

It was just this morning when Tiny and I were on our morning walk that I spyed a fattened bee. It made me think about the minutiae of life. About how no matter what, life will continue, in whatever guise.

The bees will still visit the flowers.

The sun will still peek through the cracks in the curtains.

The grass will slowly make it's way through the dirt.

The birds will still make songs.

Life continues. And it's kind of comforting.

And it's just this afternoon that I've discovered that one of Matt's great colleagues died yesterday, after a long battle. I'm thinking of her and her family. And all the great stories Matt told me of her. She was a buoyant, vivacious lady. I know she will be missed, and fondly remembered by many.

If you can, please give money to Lifehouse. Maybe this way we can help those who need it, in whatever small way it is.

Good Intentions

These days, my hours are full of good intentions. I make lists of things I need to tick off. I get some done, I tick some off, and some sit for the next day, or the next. Or sometimes they stay on there for weeks.

I lose time doing things that just eat time. Hanging the washing out. Sitting down for a session of puzzles. Chasing a wandering baby. Good intentions.

Lately I've been thinking about my grandmother a lot. There's a house I like walking past in our neighbourhood. It reminds me of her house. A bounty of fat roses. And my goodness, you wouldn't believe the beautiful delicacy of these roses. The Doctor and I breathe in their sweetness. It takes me back to when I was small. And I miss her. I remember when we were small and she'd ask us to empty the tea leaves onto her beloved roses. I miss her.

It's like my brain switches off - and I think - yeah I'd like to ring Nonny and chat with her. And then I remember I can't. So I switch back to when I could chat with her.

I remember one conversation in particular - I was studying at uni and had an assignment on sati. I was, as usual, winging it with my lastminute.com assignment, and had no idea what I was going to write my essay about. Lo and behold, my grandmother had a wealth of knowledge. And when I say wealth, she was like a vault - but she was willing to share. She chatted to me about everything she knew about sati, and after that conversation I went away feeling more confident I could do it. She had a knack for that.

She loved words. She loved roses. She loved tea. And she was wickedly good at cryptic crosswords. I remember being small and when my parents went out, Nonny and Patty used to babysit me. We'd sit up on Friday nights and watch the proms on ABC. Does anyone else remember those? Afterwards I'd go to bed in the guest room, snuggled under a pink silk feather duvet, listening to the TV.

But my most favourite latest memory of her is of her and the Doctor. He'd lie on her bed. I know he can't remember her. But I will always remember what joy she had for her great-grandchildren.

Thankfully my house is blissfully disorganised. From time to time I find birthday cards, or Christmas cards strewn around in different places. Hidden in tea cups. In the ribbon cupboard. Next to my bed. I love opening them up and finding her familiar handwriting.

I know these photos are crazy bad. Taken in half-light, half-rush; but the thing is, this garden's lush and blooming with my memories. I can't go past without taking a deep inhale of these roses.

And with good intentions, I'm going to say it out loud. I'd like to start my own rose garden.

Slow Crafting - Fruity Flower

By no means should I get credit for this funny little slow crafting project. I saw it in InsideOut forever ago, loved it, and made my own. Cheap-easy-fun-ongoing art project to brighten up our kitchen. And when we move, I'll just have to peel all those babies off the cupboard door.

Mainly Pink Lady stickers, a few Batlow, lots of mango love - but my favourites - the Crocodile Rock stickers from the yummiest, drippiest, ripest, summer-loving mangoes that ever graced my taste buds.

So now when you eat your two serves of fruit a day, you can keep tabs in the Fruity Flower.