THE LAST LESSON....

Marseille Callelongue Calanque Monday 20th September

Went to France last week-end for my mum's 82nd birthday. She has got cancer, its very serious, secondaries and all so was expecting...well was expecting to have it my way...isn't that choking. I was actually wanting my dying mother to have the sort of 82nd birthday that I wanted for her. I can see it now but at the time, I was full of giving her the best time ever, sitting together hugging and telling each other how much we love each other and any number of other strange notions.

Only you see, in my family we do not do things like that, ever, EVER, EVER.... even when mum is dying and its probably her last birthday.

And why o why should we start now? Because, I want to? What right do I have to impose upon someone my ideas about how she should or should not do something?

But see, its too hard...too hard for whom? Too hard for ME... excuse me, says a voice in my head, you could please, ahem, remind me...who is it that's doing the dying here? And who is having a hard time? ME? Pardon, what?

Ok, point taken...so I have to let this happen and be there but watching at a respectful distance. Doing it her way. Because, that's probably her last gift to me, the last gift a parent can give a child...teaching them to accept that they know best how to die.

As I look out of the window, with the rain, practically horizontal, and the north wind blowing a gale, the hum of the central eating, my old friend, in the back groud, I also watch as the year slowly dies and remind myself that I can no more influence that than I can influence my mother's choices.

Last week, I wrote of midpoints, this week, I am watching, not being centre stage and not making it all about me. Strange feeling that. And yet, watching is amazing. Look at her photo, I managed to take it when she was not looking at me...looking at the beautiful rock face above. There she is, my mum, dying her way, as I watch...

MIDPOINT OR THE END OF THE SUMMER?

Autumn light...the end?

I have been thinking...yes, I know, dangerous thing to do, thinking...my heart was heavy you see, when I took that picture, I saw the autumn light and felt the cold winds of winter howling somewhere, ready to pounce and the cold and the damp and the land looking dark and forbidding...and I thought, its the end, the end of summer...

Then I looked on my left. Well you cannot see what is on my left when I write and I did try to take a photo but it did not come out. Its an old yellow bit of A4 paper, three years old or thereabouts that my son drew for me. On it is the plan of a classic script and in this plan...there is no ending. On the edge of the plage, there are the following words : Climax and Rebirth.

And there we are, really at Midpoint. Midpoint between the two solstices, bang around the Autumn Equinox, the point of balance before it all tips down into the second half, not the ending, you see, no, just the second half.

So what if, there were no endings at all, just Climax followed by Rebirth. Therefore there would be no death as such. A beautiful Climax of life, like the one the land is going through at the moment with all the gorgeous berries rioting, the last calendulas, the red tomatoes. Have you noticed, its all red out there, blazing it is! Climax and then, of course, Rebirth.

What a way to think of life...there is no end to summer just a magnificent climax and immediately after that, its starting to be Spring again. It might take time for us to see that but already, as I have said in a previous post, the new growths have arrived. I have tidied up the herbs garden and cut the tarragon down and underneath the long leggy bits, the new baby leaves are already there...

So, I am leaving you with this photo, the great blast Climax of my harvest and from the Midpoint of the year, the beautiful Autum Equinox, I stand and contemplate how I am going to allow everything to Rebirth. O Dear, that would mean me too - Rebirth without constantly checking whether its happening, trusting the process of it, letting it build up, enjoying the slow, gentle, tender, special growing of my very tiny leaves. Having the patience to allow this to happen. No interference. Watching tenderly...till they are ready to unfurl...o around the Spring Equinox...that would be the next Midpoint then, jumping from Midpoint to Midpoint, light of feet and heart. Think about it, its wonderful!

HEARD ON THE RADIO....IT MUST BE TRUE...

ROSEHIPS AND GINGER SYRUP INFUSING IN THE SUN...

Had a bit of a down day on Saturday and Sunday was a bit subdued too...was wondering why and after much pondering realised that I have been listening to the radio and watching the News every night as well. Last week was both the 70th anniversary of the Blitz and the 9th of September 11th. So many programmes dedicated to both events and what with the SPENDING CUTSSSSSS.... screaming at us from all sides, I got myself truly dysphoric, in fact down right unhappy but in that sort of vague blah way that does not allow you to do anything but just feel blah...

But this morning, I heard it on the radio, it must be true....HAPPINESS STARTS WHEN YOU EARN £50,000 A YEAR.

That's it, Radio 3 it is from now on! Although Radio 3 always decides to play some obscure contemporary music when I switch it on, just to annoy me, instead of playing some uplifting Mozart or something. But seriously, I will not listen to this drivel anymore. I like to keep in touch with what's going on in the world, don't get me wrong but, I am officially declaring a boycott of all TV and radio News for a while (well till I get seduced again).

In my lovely fantasy world, we, of course, do not have a television and watch endless repeats of Escape to the Country (my secret vice). No, we sit listening to Mozart, in front of a roaring fire, knitting by candle light and making clever conversation. As it is of course, we watch any amount of rubbish (the knitting and the roaring fire do take place).

I dug the blah out with my spade as well as my potatoes, currently being rinsed on the garden's table by the lovely soft rain and also burnt away all my dysphoria in the back back garden (I am not going to explain the garden to you, if you have been paying attention, you know what the back back garden, also know as the farm yard, is)  along with all the dried up bits that needed burning!

£50 000 a year indeed! The Beloved and I used to earn that sort of money when we both worked for the NHS and we cannot for the life of us remember what we used to do with it...pay other people to do what we do now probably, ah yes, she said, go on holiday and have meals out!

Yes, but....have you seen the Rosehips and |Ginger Syrup, glowing in the sunshine! Have you, Have you!!!! I will drink it and as I drink it will feel the wonderful summer we have just had go into my veins and bannish Blah for ever! I will, I promise you that it will work!

WILD PEARS, POTATOES, BUTTERNUT SQUASH, WILD PLUMS...FORRAGING

The first outing of the Tea Cosies...

Dont' I look proud at my first craft fair...I tell you I am so happy I could burst, which would, lets face it make a bit of a mess...|In case you wish to know, it went well...in unexpected ways and people really liked my stuff and I learnt loads and it was such fun! What I will remember is that people want to learn "how to" nowadays. They do not wish to buy stuff much but are really keen to learn stuff so I'll be organising little workshopettes to teach the skills I am learning by the way I live, the endless gifts I am given.

Its gleaning time, dear friends and the harvest is amazing. Around where I live, after all has been harvested, the farmers don't mind (I have checked) if you go in the fields and help yourself to what is left behind by the machines. My lovely farmer friend Garry says that it all gets ploughed back in anyway so might as well help myself!

And I do...potatoes at the moment, all different shapes, the ones that Mr. Mark & SainsTesAsco does not want because they are not pretty enough or whatever... they end up in my lovely bag and then in my cooking pot. Its good for the muscle tone as well, no need to go to the gym when you can walk around the land collecting kilos of fruits and vegetables and then carry them home. In my world, it is not cricket (O how English I have become) to use the car to go gleaning or indeed wooding, it has got to be done by foot and hand.

And the land at the moment is just amazing. The harvest is in, the wheat is cut down and they have started ploughing. The black earth is being churned for the winter tide and smells beautiful. I had my nose in it this morning and it was warm and delicious. The season is turning. And I want to dance with gratitude. There is so much...so much to harvest!

So much work to pot everything and transform it into delicious "butters" and "cheeses". That is the thing. To collect, gather, make takes patience and time. Its like a prayer really. Slowly picking the sloes, patiently gathering the damsons. Squinting in the sunshine to see the berries. I believe berries hide in the first instance and then when they realise you will only take what you need and not more and leave some for the birds then they de-cloak and there are hundreds of them.

I love "seeing" things I did not even know existed when I moved to the country three years ago. I went for a forage with a friend this morning and was able to point out hazels, brambles, wild apples, crab apples, damsons, within minutes. Where once, I was only seeing a mass of green, I can now see, see all the nuts, the berries, because I have learnt to look. Not look for, not look because, no...just look and then suddenly I see!

May you get to "see" what needs to be seen to make your week a happy one! Oh and there was a skylark too!