I switched off the lights, computer and TV last evening. A belated Earth Day, if you like. I closed my eyes and experienced the storm that was passing overhead. The rain lashed down as only a Perth winter can deliver. There was some intermittent hail, too. I listened to every sound. It was intense. As a child I feared storms as my nanny had told me lighting can strike an exposed mirror, so I hid under covers as she threw a sheet over anything reflective. I no longer cower. I’ve come to realise storms are a sensory experience like no other.
In the darkness I envisioned my spring garden. I’m preparing the garden for my son’s wedding next year. He insists on his groomsmen coming to the home and having some pre-wedding photographs in “the family home”. His sentiment, warms my heart.
This morning I walked through the back gardens and found winter’s touch everywhere.
The mulberry tree is stripped bare of leaves.
There’s a soft and squelching carpet underfoot.
I sneaked in a quick picture of a nest when there were no birds around. 
I came around the home to the side garden where the geraniums always bloom. Their vivid colour in winter is an obvious delight.
In the front garden, the roses defy winter, having found intermittent warmth during autumn. They are putting up a showy display before pruning.
This bloom is as big as an infant’s face. The perfume is exquisite.
I love this rose that starts to bloom with the faintest tinge of pink.
There is just one pink rose on the front arbor.
With a promise of another, yet to bloom.
A walk around my winter garden took me from the stark, barren trees to beautiful blooms, and a promise of more to come. It mirrored life’s journey.
I’m in a good place. I now know, this is how it was meant to be.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 