Tuesday, 27 May 2014
“Grow!” I willed my garden as I cleaned the kitchen windows with a tattered blue jaycloth. Bits of old pilchard swept into the disinfected crisscross of the fabric and was then hurriedly flung down the plughole. I wanted to be out in my beautiful garden, within its pockets of green leafiness and tranquillity. I admired my prize-winning rhubarb with its dark rusty umbrella-like leaves. Perhaps another wind for them this year I pondered. Kicking off my sandals I shoehorned myself into my snug garden plimsolls caked in the glorious fertile mud of my garden. Outside I drank in the peace and the silent slow growth of the plants. Vermillion poppies bobbed under the zephyr like touch of the passing insects. This garden was my spiritual and physical sanctuary. Not only did my garden grow but it helped me to grow too.
The copyright of this post belongs to Komal Patel