Hope


The latest prompt from the 100-Word Challenge wants us to add 100 words to and winter will bring. You can tell from my crusted nails that I've been preparing tirelessly for what the coming season has in store... 


When, with creeping years and budget cuts, life seems full of endings, I seek refuge in the soil. From seeds, frail as dust, rainbows unfurl and beauty lies dormant in the ugliness of bulbs. Gardening is the art of patient hopefulness. We plant saplings we won't live to see mature. Amid the dying leaves of autumn we bury bulbs for a radiant spring. Ordure, too, has purpose. The days may darken and winter will bring its chill, but dung shields the sleeping life and nourishes when it wakens. When parents decline and recessions bite, I must recall the resilient hope of the gardener. And buy seeds!



Comments

  1. Rachel Selby23 October 2012 at 21:00

    Sobering thoughts and beautifully expressed as usual.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous23 October 2012 at 22:30

    I love this. As one who doesn't garden yet, I'm drawn to beautiful descriptions of it. Yours makes me want to find a space and give it a try.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron24 October 2012 at 19:22

      Do try. The smugness when you've conjured life from seed is very pleasurable!

      Delete
  3. Anonymous24 October 2012 at 02:38

    What a poetic way to describe the transition of gardening seasons. Our 'dying leaves of autumn' are currently burying more than just bulbs, we haven't raked our yard. I think it's fine to just let nature have it's way and leave the leaves to protect the grass from frost. But that's mainly because I hate to rake:-)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Delft24 October 2012 at 06:37

    Somber, but hopeful - well done. And juxtaposing creeping years and budget cuts is clever.

    "Gardening is the art of patient hopefulness." Now that's a quote-to-be if ever I saw one!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sandra Crook24 October 2012 at 13:04

    Effective reflection on the therapeutic benefits of living with the garden.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Anonymous24 October 2012 at 13:48

    This is a lovely reminder that nature endures. Thank you for sharing this.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Older Mum24 October 2012 at 19:57

    Once again, timeless, evocative words from the Matron :o).

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron24 October 2012 at 20:22

      And once again a kind and cheering comment from the Older one!

      Delete
  8. Molly25 October 2012 at 08:48

    Flawlessly written, as ever (seriously, can you write a duff post just once, to give the rest of us some hope?!). Was listening to a piece on the radio this morning about the importance of nature and gardening on our mental well being. I never knew gardening was used by some psychiatrists as a form of treatment for depression. So interesting. And it now makes me realise why my own mother is such an inherently happy person.

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    Replies
    1. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron25 October 2012 at 10:25

      Monty Don, doyen of gardening, suffers from depression and uses it as his release. And he was teaching young offenders to garden too because it helped calm and rehabilitate them and see a purpose in life. The best thing about gardening is that there's always something to look forward to.

      Delete
  9. Bibsey Mama25 October 2012 at 09:15

    Beautiful post. *big sigh*

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  10. A Little Light Work25 October 2012 at 09:23

    Yeah, yeah, but what I want to know is, do you add grit when planting your bulbs?

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    Replies
    1. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron25 October 2012 at 10:26

      Yeah, well obviously my original ending was 'And buy grit!), but the poetry wasn't quite there!

      Delete
  11. Anonymous25 October 2012 at 16:12

    "Gardening is the art of patient hopefulness." what a superb statement. :) thanks for sharing your craft.

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    Replies
    1. Adventures of a Middle-aged Matron25 October 2012 at 19:19

      I'm afraid I'm altogether too ready to bore on about it - but I'm no craftsman!

      Delete

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