I hope you're holding yourself so, so gently. Distance gives such release to the bewilderment and hurt we have to tamp down just to survive.
Last summer the very fine roses of Regent's Park - deep, red, rasperry-jam-smelling velvets, caught my tears in the midday sun as I breathed deeply and cried at the beauty of the world rallying against the pain afforded by it. Being human is so hard. Thank goodness for beauty ❤️
If you have time whilst you’re in London go to the Garden Museum in Lambeth palace, walking distance from where you’re staying by the sounds of things. It is British flowers week from Wednesday with glorious installations and also one of my very favourite places where I am to be found far too often! The café is also excellent x https://gardenmuseum.org.uk/
I feel that if (when?) I get to see the gardens you speak of someday I will have no choice but to move there. To be able to walk in those gardens; Monty Don is my hero! I will also need to wear sunglasses to not appear as a lunatic.
You captured my attention with that enchanting rose. I searched, in vain, for the variety using all of my nifty plant identifying apps. Alas, no luck, tho it does seem to be an “old English rose” based on the photo and fragrance.
Wishing you and Susan continued respite and inspiration as you explore more charming English gardens. And keep those sunglasses handy…natural beauty has a way of sneaking up on us. Safe travels.
Reading this from rural Scotland (Perthshire). Before I got to the part about your journey leading you north, I thought to myself, this idea of accidental beauty -- a sense of place, history, man and nature colliding -- is exactly how I feel right in highland Perthshire). The living being that is the River Tay makes me gasp audibly each time I lay eyes on it. It pains me to read about your caregiving situation. That role is devastating even with the gentlest of patients.
So happy for you both. The first time I saw a wave of roses tumbling over a wall was at my in-laws’. Late FIL was so proud of his roses and his vegetable garden. Picked pea and handed it to me to eat. Sweet and still warm from the sun. These scent memories are so primal, healing in a deep way. Wishing you more …until you’re fully saturated. ♥️
You could be using a chicken with a fountain pen and I'd still want to read your words. You brought me to tears. No less than twice. I wish I could send you a balm for your heart & weary head through this blasted phone/computer device. Thank you and I'm sorry. ♥️🙏🏻🌟
OMGosh. I too gasped at the beauty. I love English gardens. It must be from some long ago life where I sat in one, had one, or was the gardener for someone.. but they are like a magnet to my soul.
I don’t know you really (although I’ve read some of your posts and many many notes). These words simply fell out of my heart in your direction just now, and please know I send them with compassion. If for some reason this doesn’t “land right” for you, feel free to delete it. (I will understand. Not all ‘good intentions’ hit the mark.)
I’m so sorry that you have the task of caretaking an abusive parent. And I know that sadly, she will have to face herself (and her cruelty) in a life review after she crosses over. The words she hurls at you are mirrors of what she thinks of herself, and her soul, now locked into a cruel memory loop, has forgotten all she ever knew about truth and kindness.
When she says something cruel, your task is now to blot out those words from your mind, and never allow the second arrow to be hurled by yourself (this means try very hard not to repeat them in your head.) no analyzing, no trying to solve the crazy-train of her thoughts, no allowing them to stick to your beautiful self. The first arrow is the cruel words she hurls. The second arrow is you repeating them too yourself… it’s not necessary.. and it won’t help.
Yes, they hurt. I’m so sorry. Others mean words break my heart too. My mind wants to solve the puzzle of why they can be so mean, but there is no answer to that.
I send you energetic armor, to have all cruelty fall off you and evaporate as it hits the ground. I send you a tender arm around your shoulders (from me, a big sister type who has dealt with cruelty and survived it) reassuring you that nothing she says is true. And the wish that one day, before she crosses, the real soul within her peeks itself out and says she appreciates you and is sorry for her cruelty. That you have always been loved, and she’s grateful that you never abandoned her despite all of this.
Oops… I smelled and resmelled, thinking I must be wrong, perhaps fooled by its colour. I decided to wait and ask passersby if they could smell it too, but they crossed the street, and kept crossing the street, I guess because some wild-eyed maniac had some intense interest in them. I was considering dialling it back, standing nonchalantly with my cane in one hand and a rose in the other but I could see how foolish that would be and just smelled it again. I can’t wait for it to come into bloom this year!
Wishing you & Susan many more enchanted moments of grace with and without roses during your time here. BIG welcome to the UK! Probably not going to fit into your itinerary but Scampston North Yorkshire is a gem. Beautiful Piet Oudolf garden and stunning Victorian glasshouse with the original head gardener’s desk and perch for his parrot https://www.scampston.co.uk/ X
Yes to all you said and please keep stopping to smell all the roses, lavender, lilacs, etc. Soak it up. And the release of tears is also healing.
I hope you're holding yourself so, so gently. Distance gives such release to the bewilderment and hurt we have to tamp down just to survive.
Last summer the very fine roses of Regent's Park - deep, red, rasperry-jam-smelling velvets, caught my tears in the midday sun as I breathed deeply and cried at the beauty of the world rallying against the pain afforded by it. Being human is so hard. Thank goodness for beauty ❤️
If you have time whilst you’re in London go to the Garden Museum in Lambeth palace, walking distance from where you’re staying by the sounds of things. It is British flowers week from Wednesday with glorious installations and also one of my very favourite places where I am to be found far too often! The café is also excellent x https://gardenmuseum.org.uk/
I feel that if (when?) I get to see the gardens you speak of someday I will have no choice but to move there. To be able to walk in those gardens; Monty Don is my hero! I will also need to wear sunglasses to not appear as a lunatic.
Living vicariously. Thank you.
Same 💗
You captured my attention with that enchanting rose. I searched, in vain, for the variety using all of my nifty plant identifying apps. Alas, no luck, tho it does seem to be an “old English rose” based on the photo and fragrance.
Wishing you and Susan continued respite and inspiration as you explore more charming English gardens. And keep those sunglasses handy…natural beauty has a way of sneaking up on us. Safe travels.
Reading this from rural Scotland (Perthshire). Before I got to the part about your journey leading you north, I thought to myself, this idea of accidental beauty -- a sense of place, history, man and nature colliding -- is exactly how I feel right in highland Perthshire). The living being that is the River Tay makes me gasp audibly each time I lay eyes on it. It pains me to read about your caregiving situation. That role is devastating even with the gentlest of patients.
Thank you for writing. We’ll be in Perthshire in about ten days—🙏🏻
So happy for you both. The first time I saw a wave of roses tumbling over a wall was at my in-laws’. Late FIL was so proud of his roses and his vegetable garden. Picked pea and handed it to me to eat. Sweet and still warm from the sun. These scent memories are so primal, healing in a deep way. Wishing you more …until you’re fully saturated. ♥️
You could be using a chicken with a fountain pen and I'd still want to read your words. You brought me to tears. No less than twice. I wish I could send you a balm for your heart & weary head through this blasted phone/computer device. Thank you and I'm sorry. ♥️🙏🏻🌟
OMGosh. I too gasped at the beauty. I love English gardens. It must be from some long ago life where I sat in one, had one, or was the gardener for someone.. but they are like a magnet to my soul.
I don’t know you really (although I’ve read some of your posts and many many notes). These words simply fell out of my heart in your direction just now, and please know I send them with compassion. If for some reason this doesn’t “land right” for you, feel free to delete it. (I will understand. Not all ‘good intentions’ hit the mark.)
I’m so sorry that you have the task of caretaking an abusive parent. And I know that sadly, she will have to face herself (and her cruelty) in a life review after she crosses over. The words she hurls at you are mirrors of what she thinks of herself, and her soul, now locked into a cruel memory loop, has forgotten all she ever knew about truth and kindness.
When she says something cruel, your task is now to blot out those words from your mind, and never allow the second arrow to be hurled by yourself (this means try very hard not to repeat them in your head.) no analyzing, no trying to solve the crazy-train of her thoughts, no allowing them to stick to your beautiful self. The first arrow is the cruel words she hurls. The second arrow is you repeating them too yourself… it’s not necessary.. and it won’t help.
Yes, they hurt. I’m so sorry. Others mean words break my heart too. My mind wants to solve the puzzle of why they can be so mean, but there is no answer to that.
I send you energetic armor, to have all cruelty fall off you and evaporate as it hits the ground. I send you a tender arm around your shoulders (from me, a big sister type who has dealt with cruelty and survived it) reassuring you that nothing she says is true. And the wish that one day, before she crosses, the real soul within her peeks itself out and says she appreciates you and is sorry for her cruelty. That you have always been loved, and she’s grateful that you never abandoned her despite all of this.
🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
No, thank you! Always a pleasure. Last November I noticed a rose on an alternate walk home that smelled like lemons. I
Oops… I smelled and resmelled, thinking I must be wrong, perhaps fooled by its colour. I decided to wait and ask passersby if they could smell it too, but they crossed the street, and kept crossing the street, I guess because some wild-eyed maniac had some intense interest in them. I was considering dialling it back, standing nonchalantly with my cane in one hand and a rose in the other but I could see how foolish that would be and just smelled it again. I can’t wait for it to come into bloom this year!
The natural world has has the ability to shock us out of our sorrow and sadness in times that are so unexpected. What a gift!
A tender tale padding about on soft words.
Wishing you & Susan many more enchanted moments of grace with and without roses during your time here. BIG welcome to the UK! Probably not going to fit into your itinerary but Scampston North Yorkshire is a gem. Beautiful Piet Oudolf garden and stunning Victorian glasshouse with the original head gardener’s desk and perch for his parrot https://www.scampston.co.uk/ X
Lovely to read. Thank you.
Love this. Have you read Orwell's Roses by Rebecca Solnit?