I’ve got thyme

Ah I do love a good pun! This title was inspired by a facebook conversation I was having with some of my arty friends. The conversation centred around this beautiful watercolour painted by or own Karl Fletcher.

 

 

karls peter pan

Copyright Karl Fletcher 2015                            www.facebook.com/watercolourjournal

Karl loves to paint on old books, letters, envelopes, sheet music, ledgers, any suitable ephemera that has history.

This piece, painted in an old edition of Peter Pan, is all about time. Hook is forcing the lost boys to walk the plank when suddenly the sound of ticking stops him in his tracks. Tick- Tock Tick-Tock Crocodile has arrived and Hook falls in a heap. Time is catching up with him like it catches up with us all.

I spent three days this week giving myself time, it wasn’t easy.

Harping back to my injured eye I was told to ‘take it easy’ for a couple of weeks. I managed a week. Then the guilt, the lack of self-worth, the anxiety came rushing in. I even asked my lovely GP friend for advice. “Two weeks, really? Do you think a week is enough?”

“Take the  two weeks off ” he said “with a bottle of Scotch!”

Bloomin’ heck that was Doctors Orders! And still I baulked. What’s happened to me?

Am I baulking now? No. Have I got a bottle of Scotch by my side as I write? No. Have I got a bottle of Bourbon next to me? Yes. Jim Beam infused with cherry, it’s very delicious, and there’s a fire burning in the grate.

My three days were a life saver (actually the following two days were too, I passed my Forest school first aid training). For the first few days I decided to take time. I walked for miles looking at trees, flowers, blossom, rivers and hedgerows, in absolute wonder. Walks that should have taken an hour took three. I sank into nature, like you would a comforting bed. I didn’t want to garden it, change it, make it my own, I revelled in the freedom of the natural world and I loved it!

So where does this leave me as a gardener? In my job I’m constantly battling. I’m battling the weeds, I’m trying to keep shrubs under control, I’m trying to maintain order in the garden, I’m always trying to gain the upper hand.

And what would happen if I stopped? If I stopped fighting? What would happen? The weeds would creep in, I would probably do less ‘work’, I may drink more bourbon. Is this such a bad thing? My favourite gardens are, after all, the wildest ones, my favourite haunts, the woods. My favourite past-times are open fires and stories about faeries and elves.

The natural world grows, develops and changes over time. It doesn’t twist and turn fighting against it. It flows, like I once flowed, like a lolly-stick on the river of life.

There’s lessons to be learned here. The thyme in my garden creeps slowly, unnoticed across pathways. Then suddenly, gloriously, in summer it blossoms and blooms into a carpet of blooms; providing sweet nectar for insects and a wonderful surprise for me.

There’s a wildness to nature that isn’t reflected in my life; and I want it to be. I want to change like the seasons, blow like the wind and live a life that is truly free.

 

 

 

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