The hand

Dear reader,

The garden like your garden if in the UK has been blasted by the east wind (given a name which I will not repeat) it has frozen and gutted the Yucca its spikes flattened.
No shelter since the hedge that protected it was dug up by me the week before. I stole its chance to survive. Fleece yes fleece I know - but being a non fleecy gardener there was no fleece.

The wind with no name has blown bare the beech hedge of its clinging leaves. It dislodged my tinplate spiral throwing it discus - like into the middle of the garden.

Spring has been arrested
Put in gaol
A prison of cold soil - a cold soft surface mush with hard iron below

Now in between two seasons
Winter not wanting Spring to have its head
The heads of lenten roses bow to the ground
Leaves splayed as though in abeyance

No sap - no life blood - no energy to flow
It cuts back
Fights to keep its grip

But it will loosen when the hand of God allows it
Who is God you may ask -
Is it he who builds towers, engines, empires ?
Is it the collective will of industrious humankind, consumer and despoiler ?
Not much of a god then.

Climate ? That god manipulated by humankind - perhaps it has hands.
How powerful
How greater than any god - who with a mean mind nips the bud of our superior knowledge.

Winter cuts back our enthusiasm
Lays waste our fragile lives
Imagine if we had another Ice Age
Such temperate creatures are not invincible.



  1. I love it when Nature, God call it what you will seems to say to mankind "Aha! You think you are so clever and can make all kinds of plans and yet I can stop you in your tracks, bring your gardens and even your country to its knees with just a click of my fingers and a few snowflakes. When will you learn that you cannot beat me that I am the one in charge and if I decide that another Ice Age is due then there will be nothing you can do about it"! We need to know that something more powerful than us can stop us in our tracks and we are powerless. Having said that Nature/God or what you will is not averse to giving us back the flowers and plants we considered ours but which were Hers/His to do with as She/He pleased. We may yet have another chance to accept that we are no more powerful than the flowers who bow in abeyance like your Christmas Rose. Only when we accept our place in the Grand Scheme of things will all be right with the world and I am not holding my breath for that day to come I must say!


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