January 20, 2005

• gloved misslill with a Harris Hawk at the Falconry Centre, Tottenham

  
  

  

  
  

  I have always had a strong affinity with nature. Being in the city surrounded by noise and concrete stifles my soul and dulls my senses. I need to have space around me, to be able to commune with mother earth and the creatures that inhabit her.

  
  

  At this time of year I start to yearn for the warmth of the sun and the sounds of nature. I wait for Spring and for the reawakening of life. Of course now there are still the poor hungry ducks to feed at Bluffer's Park and my chickadees are eager for seeds and as easily hand fed as ever at Lynde Shores. Hiking in the cold and snow are not my favourite pastimes, so I limit my forays to those two places until spring.

  
  

  Come spring I seek out the still hidden, untrodden places that are becoming harder and harder to find. The smell of the woods, the crackle of the underbrush, the gurgling of a creek - nothing can compare to that. The magic of coming across a deer in the woods; that moment when your eyes meet and lock together in a split second of understanding and then with a lightning quick turn, she's gone. The cheeky chipmonks that clamber up your leg for a treat, the harsh squawk of the blue jay as they swoop for a peanut. The hesitant squirrel that finally lets greed overcome fear (what a human trait!) and takes the nut from your hand. The majestic sight of a proud hawk or eagle staring down at you from their lofty perch. There is so much magic and beauty in this world that it sometimes overcomes me.

  
  

  All the fears and worries in life disappear when I am in nature, away from the man made world. I feel at peace, completely serene when I  manage to "get away" from it all. I enjoy the same atmosphere of peace when I am working in the garden. Tending, planting, dreaming, hands in the soil just marvelling at the miracle of creation. We are blessed to have this miracle at our fingertips and I always feel honoured to have the knowledge and ability to work with the land.

  
  

  In my previous garden I never used chemicals. My philosophy was to control pests by proper planting. I also believed that there was enough for everyone to share. Racoons, rabbits, they were there first so who was I to shoo them away. The funny thing was my garden always flourished. Lush abundance was my style. Roses climbed among valerian around cucumbers and myrtle. Herbs surrounded berries and all grew in harmony.

  
  

  In my new garden I pray for the same kind of peace and harmony. It is hard to start all over from scratch, but the previous owners have left me with a good starting point of fruit trees, something I have no experience with but am eager to learn about. As my excitement grows I dream of plucking a pear from my tree and grapes from my vines and admiring the "fruits" of my labour!

  
  

  I am including a poem by Edna Jaques, an often overlooked Canadian poet . Certainly not modern and angst filled, her work has an honest simplicity that appeals to me. If you like it, I suggest you seek her out, she has quite a few volumes of published work from the 1940’s.

  
  

  Green Fingers

  
  

  She has green fingers – so the saying goes

  
  

  If she just touches anything it grows

  
  

  Responsive to her hands, as if indeed,

  
  

  Her heart was tuned to answer bulb or seed

  
  

  The life that beats in every potted thing

  
  

  Like rising sap answering to the spring.

  
  

  She has green fingers – every herb and root

  
  

  She seems to take life from her, a tiny shoot

  
  

  Will put out little folded leaves and grow;

  
  

  Her flower beds are a perpetual show;

  
  

  The fence seems to enclose a magic yard,

  
  

  Where Peace and Beauty ever stand on guard.

  
  

  A bed of pansies just inside the gate

  
  

  Are like a row of faces set to wait

  
  

  The passing of a Queen in royal dress;

  
  

  The roses blush at their own loveliness,

  
  

  While she – beyond the borders of the lawn,

  
  

  Kneels on the ground to coax a seedling on.

  
  

  She has green fingers – so the neighbours say

  
  

  Who come with paper bags and cart away

  
  

  Cuttings and slips and little rooted trees.

  
  

  They claim a special magic comes with these.

  
  

  As if she touched each petal tightly curled,

  
  

  And bade them multiply and bless the world.

  
  

   

  • 11:47 am
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