Blog

  Only the wicked cold would send me galumphing into the house. But never mind, I'm famous. Winnipeg Free Press Saturday October 27th, Homes section. Yes, that's my garden (and John's). Coming up, a few pictures and stories from a couple of trips to England. One...

A Cretan Labyrinth in my back yard invites an intentional meander to the centre...to the wabi-sabi that awaits there.

>Bouquet, palate, nose, "legs" and oh, I don't know what all else. I can cup a rose and bring it to my face and drink the apricot perfume and as I let it go and it springs back into place. A nice Rioja is an Abraham Derby rose for winter. Thanks to the Twin Valley...

As the snow slowly recedes, I see the spikes of last year's plants. Suddenly I know that spring is coming and I can actually see what I've "seen" in my mind all winter, glorious bursts of colour, shape, texture and general loveliness. Look at what's around the corner....

Not that I ever really stop thinking about the garden...rather, the thinking subsides in the winter. And now I feel it come bubbling up to the shiny surface. Better check the plant orders. Try to remember what I wanted to do under the flowering crab now that the roses...

Donning snowshoes AFTER supper, now that the clocks have 'sprung forward', and trekking to see the sunset, and there it is so close to the boundary between the fields. I guess this means spring is coming. Yay!

I look at the lights of this season and, like Frederico Garcia Lorca, see "a beard full of butterflies". What amazes me about winter is how we endure the wait for spring but, if we're lucky, we remember to see things in the moment too. That way, while the moment lasts...