Flowers that Remind Me of Childhood

Certain flowers remind me of my childhood.

I grew up in an inner-city suburb of Sydney, where gardens were far less common than in the district where we now live.

In fact, I remember only a handful of flowers that grew in my childhood home: red geraniums, snowdrops, snapdragons of many colours,   red, pink and yellow four-o’clocks, and purple pelargoniums.

Here is a photo of a direct descendant of that original purple pelargonium. When we moved, we took slips, and so the plant, as well as the memory, lingers on.

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Christmas Lights

White lights enhance the display

For much of my life, one of the highlights of Christmas has been looking at the lights: the decorations that families and individuals display on their homes.

As the years have passed, the lights have become bigger and more elaborate. Indeed, this year’s offering ranks amongst the most impressive I’ve ever seen!

More than children revel in the visual delights created!

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Here Comes Winter!

Our  garden in carpeted in brown and yellow leaves. Even the stragglers are drifting away, and, for the first time for many months, the bare bones of our imposing maple tree appear in all their nakedness. It tells me what I already know: winter is just around the corner.

What an abrupt change it is! Just last week, Sydney basked in glorious sunshine and warmth. People flocked to beaches, and swam in the sea. Was this the summer we didn’t have?

But, brutally, now it’s gone: replaced by bracing mornings and cool though sunny days. The lure of the ocean swimming wafts away, replaced by snuggling into our winter warmers, and staying out of the wind.

So, for now, let us Sydney siders focus on the joys of winter: baked dinners that warm our souls as well as our bodies; long walks in the crisp, exhilarating air; snuggling up with a loved one (or a good book).

Let’s make the most of what we’ve got!

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Love and Marriage

Once upon a time, someone- a woman of senior years- observed to me that she       ” didn’t know why young women got dressed up to get married when what they were really doing was committing themselves to a life behind the kitchen sink.”

Cynical? Perhaps. But, even today, is there any truth in it?

In marrying, are women thrusting themselves into the burden of responsibility: for attending to the needs of an unspecified number of people for an unspecified length of time? If so, is this reason to dress up and celebrate the day of this commitment?

Or is the marriage ceremony symbolic of something much higher? The strength of a bond, the hope of its endurance: the overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling we call love?

I for one hope it’s the latter.

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