Autumn 2019

The marigold path is a new addition to the garden. Next year (always next year with a gardener, must work on being more present) there will be a greater variety of flowers. But in the spring, I just cast out seeds from last year’s crop and with irrigation and a cooperative monsoon, voilá. Even a lovely dill which volunteered.

mourning bouquet

Sadly, moving into this season of dormancy, my life also mourns the passing of my Mom. Jean was 90 and feisty (house marguerita for lunch, thank you very much), completely engrossed in current affairs (and horrified) despite some frailty. After a fall, she never recovered and passed with dignity under her own terms. “The master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”

Those lines from Invictus are inspiring. But are we really captains of our souls? If so, then more attention needs to be paid as to how exactly the soul and fate is being fostered. During the last days of Mom’s life, a new appreciation of poetry was discovered. Something to enjoy during the darkening days.

Another passing. Our darling, dearest cardigan welsh corgi, Rose. Joy, generosity and unconditional love. Traits to aspire to.


Finally – finishing a tome. The Glastonbury Romance by John Cowper Powys. One of the most bizarre and captivating books ever. More on that here.

Seasonally Appropriate