The garden feels that way too. On the occasional sunny days I go out and do a bit out there, even if it’s just to walk round greeting everything and hearing what it has to say. The garden spirit tells me what she would like us to do for the coming year and I make suggestions back to her to, it’s a conversation and I always come back with more than I went out with. She has some big plans for the hedges to help the birds and small mammals so I’m getting some of the logistics together with my gardening friend.
Sometimes I go out at first light, before the dawn, into that wonderful crepuscular time when things are not quite solid out there, the full everyday-reality of colour doesn’t yet flush through the plants. The robin is always there to greet me, carolling his morning-song as harbinger of the sun. Mist, and one morning frost, clings to the grass and the bushes; little rustles stir the hedges as the night-denizens of the garden return home to sleep the day out.
And sometimes I go out at night. The moon has come back again this month and so I can go out with her into the black-and-white landscape she gives me. Again it’s not the comfortable reality I know from the daylight time but a stark land of inky shadow and glittering light.
I love the way the our spirit of place plays with the Earth and sun and moon to show me how this little patch that I am currently guardian to changes over the 24 hour period. There is no normal … and everything is normal … normal is all the things she shows me, the crepuscular dusk-light, the monochrome of moonlight, the colours of daylight, and everything in between. Only my little human mind sometimes tries to make it all smaller so it fits inside my comfort zone. And then I wake up and laugh, laugh at myself. I open the lid of the comfort-box and smell the coffee, the wonderfulness of Life, the Universe and Everything.
As the Incredible String Band sang way back in the 1970s … “Each moment is different from any before it, each moment is different, it is NOW !!!”