The Garden at Stone Cottage

“Life begins the day you start a garden”
                                           Chinese Proverb

The garden at Stone Cottage
Is such a magical place,
It wraps around our home
Like a scarf around a face.
Despite the heat and the dry
And the wind, it still thrives,
As it demands our attention
And helps shape our lives;
A true reflection of us,
Of our efforts and care,
So generous in returning
All the love that we share,
Teaching us about nature,
Of its fascinating ways,
Watching our garden evolve,
Surely the most special of days.

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But there’s so much more to the garden
Than just the plants and the trees
Its insects attract the birds,
Its flowers draw the bees,
So the garden is never still,
Always movement for the eye,
Whether a breeze rippling through,
A visiting bird or butterfly,
Or a bee hard at work
As it moves from flower to flower,
Mesmerising us
For hour after hour;
A world within a world,
Where from stress we are free,
Our garden at Stone Cottage,
There’s no better place to be.

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Garden Talk

The garden has so many visitors….how can you not talk to them?

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My garden’s a haven for visitors,
Uncaged and always free to roam,
Bringing me such beauty and colour,
I’m so lucky when they share my home.

I know they haven’t come to see me,
They come for the bounty that’s here on hand,
I can forgive them, then, when they ignore me,
For why they’re here I do understand.

Still I like to give them all greetings,
The polite thing to do, don’t you think?
As I watch them busily feeding,
Or taking a bath, or having a drink.

I have conversations with butterflies,
And daily I have long talks with bees,
And I chat away constantly with the birds,
Who chat back, perched up in their trees.

And, naturally, I talk to my plants,
Encouraging them all to grow,
Because of my plants my visitors visit,
And without them they’d surely all go.

So if you’re passing by Stone Cottage,
See an old man speaking to no one at all,
He’ll just be in conversation with his plants,
Or with the visitors who have come to call.

May 2020

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Breakfast With A View

Perhaps getting up every morning at sparrows fart, just so you can sit in seemingly endless queues of traffic isn’t the best way to start your day after all……..

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Imagine starting each day
In the way that we do,
Breakfast on a stoep
A great mountain view;
Sitting there chatting,
No need to be rushed,
The smell of fresh coffee,
As the plunger is pushed.
Fresh creamy yoghurt,
Nice and thick, not too runny
And drizzled all over,
With local raw honey.
Eggs sometimes scrambled,
As the routine gets changed,
With tomatoes and bacon
For the yoghurt exchanged.
Our day being planned,
Or then again not,
Discussing the weather,
Is it going to be hot?
Watching orioles and drongos
At the fountain drinking,
Planning garden improvements,
Gets the grey matter thinking.
Just chilling out
Before the day has begun,
As we sit on our stoep feeling
Life’s jackpot’s been won.

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The Wind Blew Last Week

Some of us do not take the threat of catastrophic man made climate change and the impending end of the world seriously enough, … but not me…

The wind blew last week and that was followed by rain,
So the proof was right there, so obvious, so plain
That climate change is real, how much evidence did I need?
I had to reverse it, or at least try to impede.

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So I sold my car and every domestic appliance,
On anything electrical now I have no reliance,
Stopped changing my clothes and showering as well,
To save the planet I’m prepared to smell.

No more trips abroad on those big, evil aircraft,
I know some still travel, but they are just so daft,
Now if I want to go anywhere I just have to walk,
You see I take action, rather than just talking the talk.

Stopped eating any meat, well that goes without saying,
(Think of the virtue signalling I must be conveying!);
And for those that remain so hard to convince,
Well, there’s been no wind or rain, no sign of them since!

So am I carbon neutral? Well no, I’m still breathing,
CO2 gas in great quantity from my body is leaving,
So the world will just have to wait until I’m no more
To find out if the climate has stopped changing for sure.  

 

Priceless

Some things you just can’t put a price on….

It’s not just the plants that give me such pleasure,
Deep in my garden lies its real hidden treasure.

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I use my garden to grow my soul,
To anchor my roots, to make me whole;
To understand how good it can feel
To weed out life’s trivia, to nurture what’s real;
To connect with nature, finding peace in its earth,
So how can I value what my garden is worth?

 

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Days End

There is something quite magical about sitting and just watching the sun go down….

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The sun starts to set,
The air slowly cools,
The fierce daytime heat
Now no longer rules.
On the stoep we have gathered
For our usual observance
Of the end of the day,
The sun’s disappearance.

The dog has been walked,
The wine has been poured,
The stoep lamps are burning,
Against insects secured;
The last of the daylight
Lingers far out to the West,
It’s awesome changing vistas,
Stirring senses from rest.

And as night supplants day
The twilight is crowned
By animals orchestrating
That African sound.
Guinea fowl roosting,
Chattering away,
Crickets endless chirping,
Owls having their say.

Haunting sounds
As the day’s put to rest,
Another Karoo wonder
By which we are blessed.
And as the stoep lamps flicker
And we watch the flames dance,
The moths come to join us
On their nightly advance.

Finally by the darkness
We’re completely surrounded,
Our mind, soul and body
Now totally grounded.
Of all of life’s crops
Surely this is the cream,
Sitting here on the stoep,
Living our dream.

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Garden Refugee

There is nowhere I’d rather be………………

A person who seeks out a refuge
Is known as a refugee,
When you find me in my garden
Then throw that mantle over me.
It is my church, my special place,
A sanctuary where I find peace;
The world outside is kept at bay,
And my soul can find release.

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With hoe in hand or watering can,
Under cloud or the blistering sun,
Life’s petty worries are cast aside
And with nature I become as one.
My garden’s where I can truly find peace
As my plants I lovingly tend;
A safe haven that beckons me every day,
My refuge that’s become a best friend.

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The feel of the earth as I work with my hands
Makes the spirits inside of me rise;
I can think of no place I’d rather be,
No better sight for my sore, old eyes.
How can I value these gifts I receive
As my garden keeps on giving and giving?
I’ve found my asylum, I’ve made my escape;
A garden refugee; what a life to be living!

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An Escape to the Country

We’ve made our escape…..have you? 

 
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Away from the noise,
Away from the grime,
Away from the traffic,
That steals our time.

Away from drab buildings,
Uninteresting places,
Away from the graffiti
That so often defaces.

Away from the signs,
The enforced restrictions,
Away from the malls
And those shopping addictions,

Away from the crowds,
The commuting lifestyle,
Away from grey faces
That never smile,

Away from the cameras
That keep a record of us,
Away from the commotion,
Away from the fuss.

An escape to the country,
An escape to more space,
An escape to a life
At a much gentler pace.

With fresh air to breathe
And bird song to hear;
And people with time,
Life drops down a gear. 

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Just a Friday Morning

Not always that easy to find the motivation…..

As the chill morning air
Banishes a few days of heat,
And the rain gently falls,
For our plants such a treat.
A second pot of coffee,
As if by magic;
Not to soak up this splendour
Would surely be tragic.

The camera shutter clicks,
Must capture the morning
As the mist cloaks the mountain,
Of more rain it’s a warning.
Searching for the energy
To make a start to our day,
Or should we just stay here?
Perhaps we just may!

The Prickly Pear

Have the bees been playing tricks on me…?

I went to see my apple tree
And what did I find there?
Not my favourite Granny Smith,
But instead a prickly pear.
Now I’ve never heard of this before,
A most unusual situation.
Must be the result of a freak of nature,
An error in cross pollination.

So I rang the Cross Pollination Institute,
To ask them about my pear,
But they were out cross pollinating,
So I got no answers there.
It must be the bees who had got confused,
So I know where I must go,
A bee keeper lived at the end of the lane,
The last cottage in the row.

But the bee keeper couldn’t help me,
Yesterday he’d been badly stung,
And off he’d been whisked to hospital
After the ambulance had been rung.
It was certainly proving quite difficult
To find out about my prickly pear,
I know! I could try the library;
I should find the answer there.

Down the hill and across the bridge,
The library was by the church with a spire
But when I got there, oh what a shock,
The library building was engulfed in fire!
Fire engines parked along the street,
There were firemen and hoses galore;
I was feeling really frustrated now,
Under my breath, I nearly swore.

Then I remembered the interweb,
Google it, come on, I should have known!
But would you believe it, my router was down,
A connection appears to have blown.
So on went the kettle, I needed a cuppa,
To help me try and recuperate;
Finding out about my prickly pear
For the time being, would have to wait.

Then one last idea came into my head,
I could use mobile communication.
A photo taken and shared on line,
I could ask for some information.
So off I went to photograph it,
No way was I going to be beaten,
But when I arrived back at my apple tree,
By the birds, the pear had been eaten!