Jacaranda Jack

There is something magical about a Jacaranda tree in flower. The really large ones with their silvery crackled trunks appear enchanted to me, as though I could step within their shadows and find myself a child again.  How is it that as I see them heavy with clouds of purple fleshy trumpets I am transported somewhere else? 

Memories flood in and out and I feel a smile touch my face and laughter fill my chest.  I am playing Old Maid and trying not to giggle when my grandfather, Jack picks THE card. I’m collecting warm eggs from the chicken shed and feel the straw against my fingers. I see Jack’s weathered hands twisting and squeezing lemons to make me a hot lemon drink in THE special mug. It’s late and we are watching the Marx Brothers. I can hear us laugh.  

My grandfather, Jack loved Jacaranda trees and I think because he did, I do too. It’s funny how we pass our passions on.  The older I get the more vividly I remember. My eye sight might be a bit fuzzy these days but I have the ability to see memories more clearly. They are precious now, almost sacred and hold healing powers.  I choose only to ponder the happy ones. They allow me to ‘live gently’ when a lot of the time the realities of life feel harsh. 

What will my children love because I did?  I hope Jacarandas.

It would appear I have loved red shoes and tea cups for a long time too!

The tiny blue bells have already started to fall and soon at the base of these majestic trees there will be a carpet almost as beautiful as the cloud.    

Turning 50 in 50 days

I’m turning 50 in 50 days. Yes, I’m counting!

Approaching 50 has felt quite significant – a lot to get my mind around.  I actually still feel a sense of surprise when I attach this BIG number to me.

It doesn’t seem that long ago when I stood in my grandmother’s kitchen, just a child. I can see and feel the moment clearly as she strode in and announced to the room she was half a hundred! Shocked at the time, the memory today makes me smile. It must have been a big number for her too!  I am warmed by the intimacy I feel between us. I see her pink lipstick, her pencilled eye brows, her grey hair set softly in curls she rolled with bobby pins the night before, her apron tied neatly around her waist. It’s funny looking back what moments capture our strongest memories. I even remember the rhythm of her wooden spoon in the mixing bowl she balanced on her hip.  

 I know my grandmother better today even though she is no longer here. There are some things we can only understand through experience. I think growing old is one of them.  I feel MY feet slip gently into her shoes.

Looking in the mirror I’m reminded daily of the reality of my big number.  I sort my halo of grey hair every six weeks at the hairdresser’s, I acknowledge the webs of spidery red veins on my legs, the lack of elasticity in my skin, the fact that my eyelids have disappeared and the necessity of glasses if I am going to be able to read or see anything in the distance. 

What I feel most keenly though is the reality of time and how quickly my life is passing through the seasons. The fact that I have more days behind me than I do in front of me, that I have chapters completed, doors closed and opportunities passed.   I feel an urgency to live today well. To choose carefully how I spend the time I am given. What will I give priority and most importantly who am I becoming in the process?

I’m not talking about creating a wild bucket list of adventures but rather choosing to slow things down and live more deliberately - finding joy in the very simple ordinary components of my day. I think taking time to be still, to breathe deeply, to feel the whisper of a breeze on my skin, smell the scent of jasmine in the air, hear the calming gurgle of water bubbling in my pond.  It is in this place that my mind has clarity, the answers come and I feel peace.