Out and about...

We have had our first break in 90-degree weather, thanks to a front bringing downpours, and then dry cooler air into our fair city.  This always tends to bring out the wanderlust in my spirit - or at least, the get-outside-and-move-your-body-around side of me.  I did not manage to inherit my mother's green thumb, but I surely did inherit a love for being close to nature, and among living things.

So, today was my mini-adventure into the gardens that I have loved for 6+ years, and while the picture to the left takes in the lush remnants of a summer with substantial rain, most of my focus on this stroll was on the details - a rain lily here, a stand of mushrooms there, the patterns of the bark on various trees, the ripening of the magnolia pods.  My knees take less of a liking than they did 6 years ago to the many steps on the paths, and I may have to sit down more often, but seeing the world through a different lens is a good thing.

Five months ago, I had no idea that my life would become as complicated as it did. As of tomorrow, most all of the threats and stresses on my soul and body will have found some degree of resolution. None of it will be forgotten, however.  I will just have the benefit of being able to look at it all through a different lens.  I am grateful for that.  It is a good thing.

The Devil in disguise...

I woke up during the night with a sore throat.  I know this sore throat, as I have had hundreds of them over my lifetime.  It is that precursor of a full blown upper respiratory infection - one that only occasionally can be quelled before making life not so pleasant for a number of weeks.

Yes, along with the absolute sheer beauty of the spring in Houston comes the absolute terror of oak, pecan, and flower pollens that wreak havoc on those of us whose immune systems go into overdrive.  Add to that the extra workload of said season in a garden environment, and voila!  People get sick.

At least this year, there were plenty of opportunities for me to drink in my fill of the loveliness before I succumbed to the unpleasantness.  These gardens are a place of solace, joy, amazement, triumph, comfort, peace, reflection, and discovery - and I'm ever grateful to have had them as my "backyard" for these nearly 6 years.

Viewpoints...

The challenge of walking in gardens is being able to take the time to look both up and down, into the distance, and with a magnifying glass.  Each view allows for a unique experience.  Sometimes, the overall view is stunning enough that one can't focus on much else.  Sometimes the amazement is in the details.

From these photos, one can't easily perceive that the blooms in the bottom picture are about the size of one's thumbnail, and that the ones on top are relatively normal pansies.

A walk through the gardens yesterday with a dear friend became another reminder of the benefits of changing one's viewpoint.  If you failed to look up, you missed the blooming redbuds, and if you failed to look at the horizon, you missed the vistas of the pink stucco-ed house on the hill with flowers and greening trees as a backdrop.

I was taught by a wise young man that the best path is to research, ask many questions of many sources, and gather as much information as possible before coming to a conclusion.  I think that method holds true in all sorts of circumstances.

Paperwhites...

I didn't expect it. I drove around the bend on the lane that leads to Bayou Bend, and there they were. That part of the gardens is shaded, but the ground is primarily forest floor - in other words, not populated by shrubs. In the spring, all of the "bulb" flowers start sending up their straight green shoots, and soon after - Voila! We have clusters of paperwhites, or daffodils, or whatever surprise ensues.

This year, they surprised me. I think they may be early. The camellias are different in that there are so many varieties that they start blooming in December, and fade in and out until the azaleas take over. But somehow, I didn't expect the paperwhites to be out at the beginning of January.

Who knows? Climate is such a strange thing, and ever-changing. As we are, correct? Four years ago, I had no idea what a paperwhite was, much less when it would bloom, or where. I had no idea of when camellias would bloom.

Watching the cycle of life in the gardens is a good thing. It's never exactly the same, but there are patterns and a certain flow to it all. Then, if you throw in a hurricane, or flood, or drought, or an enormous tent that stays up way too long and kills the grass beneath it - well, that's just the recipe for excitement that may be welcomed, but usually is not.

Our lives are the same. I know it appears that some people seem to never have "bumps" in the roads of their lives - that they are continually blessed with not having tragedies or setbacks or obstacles thrown in front of them. It also appears that some have way more than their "share". I can't really be sure of where reality is - probably as Forrest Gump said that it's "somewhere in between." Maybe part destiny, maybe part floating along on the wind.

All I know for sure is that the paperwhites are out in the gardens, and that is a sign of life and continued growth and the hope that comes with both.

A peaceful corner...

Tucked away in the gardens at Bayou Bend is a lovely waterfall that cascades down to a lower level of one of the landscaped gullies on the property. The story is that a larger fountain just above it developed a leak at some point. Rather than tear everything apart to repair the leak, they just incorporated it into another water feature and recycled the water somehow. The result was this delightful cascading trickle down to a pool flanked by two Pan-type statues. If the bench nearby were more shaded, I could sit there and listen to the water all day.

I decided that, though recently, I had allowed a few of my posts to leak some negativity, and for me, that was a good thing to do in safe quarters, it was time to move on from things that are bitter pills to swallow and about which I can do nothing. It was time move forward. I can choose not only to recognise the evil of those things, but also to take the path away from them. I can imagine being a little vulnerable right now because so much is changing, but I can also hang onto the beauty in my life - and there is a great deal of that!

Who would guess...

One of the most magnificent things about the gardens is that, eventually, no matter what kind of winter we have endured, they come alive again each spring. The gardeners and garden club always see to it that there is always some color scattered about, but the true heralds of the coming color are the camellias. Not just one kind, but tiny to enormous, stark white to deep red, perfectly proportioned to infinitely ruffled.

What would we do without so much variety in our lives, and what better model than nature to bring it to our attention. One thing affecting life in our family right now is the change in relationships. Some that we thought were good, or even the best, for years (and some were...) are now changing, and that is troublesome for those who have not experienced the cycle before. It is hard to assure those encountering it that all will be well in the end. Sometimes watching the "bloom" fade is the hardest part, but it can give way to glorious new growth. Or sometimes, after seeing the wealth of many choices, we crystalize in our minds the qualities that we most value over time, and we search for more and better examples of those.

In nature, the process goes by quickly from season to season, but in life, the transitions can be so slow that we get a bit blindsided when they come to a recognizable change of direction. That's when we really need faith...