All grown up…

Last year I redid our front yard to use only plants that are indigenous to our area. I wrote a blog post about it on the 3rd of March 2014.

One of the shrubs I chose was a wattle.

These photos show just how much it has grown and how beautiful its flowers are.

As a baby...

All grown up...

Beautiful flowers...

 As I’ve written before – while I can’t create a baby, I can create through words, through gardening, and in many other ways.

I sincerely believe it is important for people who want children but are unable to have them to find a creative outlet of some kind. This doesn’t necessarily mean something that is considered traditionally artistic. You could do up cars, you could nurture relationships with your loved ones, you could create adventures to go on with your family or friends.

The joy from seeing something come about because of you is an incredible feeling.

I often go out the front just to touch the wattle's leaves and flowers, and to talk to it. If that makes me sound strange then I’m proud to be strange...it seems I’ve always had an affinity with nature (maybe because I’m part Celtic?).

When I was about two years of age I was visiting the hospital where I was born. My Mum found me out in the garden where there were some stately old gum trees. I was standing quietly and Mum asked me what I was doing. I told her that the trees were talking to me (in the words of a two year old course).

I don’t hear my wattle talk, but I do believe it is part of me and I love my baby.

All the small things...

On Sunday it was a year since we put our beautiful cat Minerva down. She was 15 years old, and her kidneys were failing and she only had about 10 percent lung capacity. We didn’t want her to suffer. It was an honour to be there for her as she took her last breath and passed away while we told her over and over again that we loved her – and we still do love her.

In honour of her and the one year anniversary of her death I put her urn with her ashes in the sunshine. I lit some incense and Kirby and I sat and remembered all the funny things she used to do.

We laughed a lot recalling different things. Such as the time when I was blowing on the top of a bottle to make musical sounds, and she came running in, jumped on my lap, smacked me in the face with her paw, then got down and ran back up the hallway. I guess she didn’t like the music I was making! I recall sitting there stunned and then bursting out laughing hysterically – as did Kirby as he was a witness to it.

Thinking about Minerva and all the little things she used to do got me thinking about all the small things in my life that make life interesting, fun, humbling, and sometimes have me feeling wistful.

All the small things that I am honoured to have in my life.

So instead of writing more – here is a collage of just some of the small things I love.

Compassion for a dove…

I haven’t posted much this year…actually I haven’t posted at all. 2015 has not started well for us in many respects, and we are facing many struggles, but, as I promised last year, I will write posts when I can.

Today’s is all about doves…

There is a pair of beautiful Spotted Turtle Doves who arrive at our house every spring. They build a flimsy stick nest on the top of our pergola and then share the incubation of the eggs for around two weeks.

Every year I will find eggs on the ground with dead chicks in them. We have been here for three springs and there have never been any live chicks born to the pair.

 I often go out and look at whomever is in the nest and they look back at me with those bright little eyes and I wonder if they know that I too have never brought a baby into this world. I often sit and shed a few tears for them and for me. I keep hoping, every time I see that they have returned, that this will be the year when they have little ones.

I’ve read somewhere that less than five percent of all birds make it to adulthood, and I know nature is harsh. Still, I feel for the pair. Do they grieve for their babies? Do they wonder why not them when they see other doves feeding their young?

I think they know I'm writing this as one of them is out cooing in the nest right at the moment. I think I will go and see them and hope that they know I love them and feel for them so very deeply.

The doves' nest...

Beautiful bird...