A season of change

There is a large maple in my front garden.  It’s a beautiful tree with branches like thick powerful arms.   It stands taut like a statue as its leaves now the colours of a glorious sunset escape with the gentlest breeze.  Ever so softly they flutter like tiny flags on a string of autumnal bunting.  

I close my eyes and I can hear the tree as it pops and crackles, seed pods flinging themselves to the ground, leaves lost in their final dance. The sun is warm on my back, the sky cerulean blue.

My inner child is awakened (I do like waking her) as I walk through the fallen leaves. Who doesn’t remember doing that? What’s a walk in autumn without experiencing the pleasure of swishing through puddles of abandoned leaves? Somehow, in this place I hear the rustle of silk taffeta at my feet.

I have two special women in my life moving away soon - a precious sister and a very dear friend.  How can it be that I too am deciduous?

Of all the seasons, autumn is the one that counsels me to accept change and see beauty in it. I wish I could be like this maple with my arms held out about me, strong yet flexible, comfortable moving with the wind even when sometimes the things I treasure most are fluttering. I see their changing hue, I prepare for their departure.

A walk on the beach

Early last December I went back to a place I hadn’t been for a long time. It was like walking through a kaleidoscope of happy memories filled with colour and light. I felt like a pirate returning to familiar shores to retrieve my treasure. Dr Seuss said it this way, ‘Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.’ My treasure chest was full. Everywhere I looked memories sparkled like precious gems.

 

My brother, John and I on Huskisson beach

All my childhood holidays were spent at Huskisson with my family. It was here we swam in the sea, built sand castles, collected shells and explored rock pools. My father taught me how to fish at the wharf. I remember the bucket with our cork hand reels, the fishing knife, the small plastic box with compartments that held hooks and sinkers and the bait wrapped in old newspaper. What I especially remember are my father’s hands, the way his finger listened for a bite. 

My grandparents, Mumma and Jack had a house right on the beach and from their large front window we looked out over Jervis Bay. There is a particular weight and rhythm to the sea on this beach. I remember being lulled to sleep at night listening to the waves slapping the shore.

 

Huskisson beach 2013

I walked on the beach and I walked back in time. As the water gently lapped and foamed around my feet all the memories came, they rolled in and out like the sea. It is the sixties again and I can see and hear and feel all the energy of that time and season of my life. The beach is just as I remembered it, the sand soft and white, freckled with shells.

 Something magical and healing happens to me when I am near the sea.  I’m not sure how or why, but I feel it. All my senses come alive.  I breathe deeply and not only are my lungs filled but I feel my heart expand too.

There is such a strong sense of family in this place, I am connected to my past here.  The young girl I was then is still who I am today. The things I loved are part of me, they still hold the same wonder and awe and sooth my soul. 

Huskisson beach 1930   Jack left with his sister, 'Trig' playing the fool, far right his other sister, 'Cook'

Huskisson was Jack’s paradise. He brought us here and gave each one of us this heritage.  What made this December ‘walk on the beach’ so special was having my family there. I watched my Dad teach his grandchildren how to fish. I felt the excitement and wonder of an evening walk on the beach watching my little nieces and remembering when I ran with the wind in my hair.  My brother and I danced to Christmas music in the kitchen with Mum and Dad. I swam in the sea and I don’t really know that I can find the words to describe how this made me feel - I didn’t want the moment to end.  I gathered more happy memories than sea shells! 

Dad in the green hat teaching his grandchildren how to fish

Knowing what I know now I recognise the gift I can give my children. I can teach them how to be happy, how to fill their own treasure chests by being happy myself.  I am not the source of their happiness but I can be an example of it by the way I live, full of life and energy and gratitude.

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.