The first gold leaf on the mulberry tree should have signalled the arrival of autumn. But winter, in haste it seems, bumped autumn off the seasonal chart. Taken by surprise the leaves clung to limbs before succumbing to relentless rain. Not all is lost though. When the sun shines, the garden ornaments, now buried shoulder deep in drying leaves project an air of autumn. There is some comfort in order, in sequence, in predictability, so I’ve resisted calling my gardener for a clean up, at least, for now.
While the trees and shrubs shed leaves, the garden is bountiful. The citrus trees are fruiting. To my surprise, a shrub is glowing with lanterns of gooseberries. Rare to find in the greengrocers, and when they do, it is usually in summer, so unseasonal fruit is a surprise. There are hundreds of gooseberries on the shrub. They appear as a pretty yellow flower, they curl into themselves only to appear as fruit. The transformation is fascinating. So far, I’ve found only one that has ripened in its crisp paper lantern. It is the first fruit I’ve ever grown to fruition. Tangy and sweet, it was delicious!
Far from country where resources are wrestled from earth, I am finding gold unexpectedly in my garden. The birds are becoming accustomed to my benign presence. I am keeping them company, instead of the other way around. This, too, is an unexpected delight.
I am discovering the child in me again. One that is curious. One that hopes. One that dreams. And, when faced with reality, one that watches in wonder to find all things are possible. Much like the tiny honeyeater.
Until next time
a dawn bird