Hot Chicken

Life for the moment seems to circle around mugs of hot chicken Oxo. I can't get enough of the stuff. Gone off coffee and tea. A strict diet has meant I basically cut out anything that brings pleasure or exhilaration.

But.....Chicken Oxo....give me a desert island, my wife for company on every level, and a trailer load of this, and, well yeah.....sorted.

Trying to enter a sort of semi-retirement. Amanda is out of the physical completely, but handling the paperwork. I'm 'dipping in' when needed. Daughter and son-in-law are holding the fort and progressing steadily forward. I try to do this blogging thing, but 'life' just seems to create a mental block every time. Stupid ###### business emails get in the way of getting my head into peaceful places. Just drafted a response to a company that is asking for OUR money, to provide them with OUR information, that another company is employing THEIR services for????

Yep, a bit irate and cranky, as this seems to be human nature at the moment. Maybe we need to start charging an agent for providing us with a potential customer?

Rant over. 

I have been enjoying a series of DVD's of Monty Don. French Gardens, Italian Gardens, Japanese Gardens, Special Gardens. I've always loved not just his work, but more importantly his soul. His hands tell the tale of a true gardener. He questions, he gets exhilarated, he ponders, and sometimes he is just quiet in his surroundings. I like to be challenged, in fact consider it vital for personal growth. I've never really been 'into' Japanese gardens of any sort, but his dvd made me question my thoughts and beliefs about what this diverse type of garden can give

French renaissance gardens....oh yeah....bring them on. Post renaissance such as Giverny....superb. Monet, Pissarro, Klimt, Renoir, all showed how a garden can feel.

Watching inspiring gardeners, with gardeners hands and minds talk and explore and feel challenged, feeds me as a gardener. Visiting places where gardens, either in their entirety, or just a captured piece in paintings feeds me. Reading books on everything from how fungus connects every form of plant life, to plants that kill or cure, or just a book of watercolour plates of flowers feeds me. Visiting gardens feeds me.

At a time in my life when people and paperwork are a serious problem, plants are still my 'go to'

It's hard to explain. Sleep under the stars in a forest for a night, don't hug, but hold a tree, walk into your garden and with a still mind just smell a hand full of soil. 

Again, the poem 'A Kiss of the Sun' rings true!

Rosa 'Peace'