Bless the snowdrop’s
Leaf and flower.
Bless the jasmine’s
Bless the crocus,
Bless the garden’s
Humans care for plants and plants care for humans.
The romance started millions of years ago,
it was slow.
The first plants came out of the sea onto the land and later mankind came along.
We are struggling to share in cooperation now but the bond is strong,
for this is where we all belong.
We’ve been led by the power of love,
to unite below and above,
to live and transform and evolve on the earth, together.
The first plants were a collection of cells,
from these grew the beauty we know today,
we will not throw this gift away.
This is a love letter to all plants.
I guess it all began in the Garden of Eden, when Adam picked up a spade and started double digging the soils and Eve collected herbs for aromatic oils. Perhaps Eve got lazy, or older, and could not walk so far, it was pretty basic then, no one had a car to take them to the garden centre, so she dug up the wild plants and planted them nearer to the house. And thus, the kitchen garden was born, the flower garden, the patio and the potting shed. Thank you, with joy, to the garden flora and foliage that our ancestors shared with slugs, and worms, and the occasional mouse. Thank you, with pleasure, to those plants that have come to live nearer our homes, their leaves and stems, roots and seed, the hybrid, the cultivated, the fruit and the weed.
We walk on it, we lie on it, and we are forever cutting it.
Three Cheers for Good Old Grass!
There is Bluegrass, Ryegrass, Goosegrass, and many we ignore.
There are Lawns, Turf mazes, Golf Fairways, Turf roofs, grass on hill and tor.
There are near and far relatives of this wondrous plant,
and we honour grass that has been,
is and shall be ever more.
We call upon the Ancient Ones who are extinct.
We call upon the ancestors who lived upon this land
on shady valley floor, on hillside, on mountain top, on desert of ice or sand.
We call upon those Ancestors who have lived and gone forever,
who have rooted, grown and flowered but will never return to Earth.
We remember you as you look upon us.
We thank you for your presence, for your part in creation’s plan.
We thank you although we know you not,
for you were the strong foundation from which all life began.
May we be worthy descendants as we honour your gift of life.
Dad grew dahlias, they were the autumn treat,
being of a tidy mind he grew them straight and neat
with cane supports and knotted twine,
they stood like soldiers in a line.
The pom-pom heads Mum loved the best;
their flamboyant colours added zest
to the sideboard, trimmed and dressed.
Sweet memories... we were blessed.
I remember, I remember as a child,
sitting on the grass amongst little petalled stars piled
in a bundle and making daisy chains.
I remember, I remember as a teenager picking
a blue Michaelmas daisy for our school founder’s day,
wearing it as a jewelled broach on a blazer grey.
I remember this summer I saw a daisy on the lawn,
torn by wind and flattened in mud.
Fallen star, your efforts are not in vain.
Blessings to your stubbornness,
your gift a wonder in the misty rain.
Blessings to daisies, so harshly treated by our lawnmowers.
Fuschia flowers remind us of the birds and bees,
and summertime and shady trees.
These beauties share with scavenging crows,
who peck and grab at those discarded wrappers of fish ‘n’ chips,
left by holidaymakers on weekend trips.
Now fuschia ballerinas hang in winter’s worst,
heart to heart and hand in hand,
pirouetting in time with the whistling wind,
first to remind
those that see
of the summertime and shady tree.
In dainty purple shades,
pink, red and stark virgin white, cyclamen maids,
balance on high stems as butterflies,
En route for heaven, their joyful harmonies rise.
Pink splashed cream and black on gold,
cheerful amidst the ice and cold,
childlike, searching for the sun,
a promise of spring’s hard won
- new life.
Deepest red, purple, white,
brightening misty winter’s light,
vibrant on the bare damp ground,
dark green leaves in a glorious mound
- of life.
Winter pansies, they are gorgeous!
Skeleton twigs on which rose hips of the brightest reds
hang as jewel drops amongst spider’s threads.
Skeleton twigs standing over crushed berries scattered on the sodden ground.
Skeleton twigs rising above straggly nettles bringing remembrance of summer’s blossom, of crimson pink petals. Skeleton twigs celebrating summer’s past and winter’s present in the seasons round.
The promise of snowdrops
In the spring, breaking through the frozen soil
Brings to my soul a New Year's hopes
Of where and when and how to boil
The plans and dreams in a cauldron hot
That they may become reality.
I dare to try, I dare to change, I dare to live a new life.
Page last updated: 29th Nov 2017