Garden stories

"To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow."

~ Audrey Hepburn

The balcony garden is shaping up well, albeit a little haphazard. Courtesy our regular visits to the nearest plant nursery, we've already choked half of the balcony with colourful tropical crotons. It was time we brought some hardy flowers to accompany the hibiscus and the rose, both of which, in the most conniving fashion, have morphed into show plants for sometime now. And so came along the red crown of thorns, and a riotous mix of orange and pink bougainvilleas. Now we have winged visitors inspecting the new additions all day - sometimes a lost butterfly flutters from pot to pot checking the traces of nectar, but the more regular ones are the thirsty pigeons who love to draw a sip or two from the muddy waters accumulated in the pot trays. Though I leave a bowl of clean water for them, earthiness is clearly their preference.
Then came the rains one day, a typical mid-summer downpour, much to everyone's relief. The patchy, dust-clad crotons celebrated the most perhaps, the fat drops washing the city's muck off their kaleidoscopic leaves. Who doesn't like to show a spot of true colour, eh?! The balcony soon became a palimpsest of colours - yellow, maroon, green, white.

Indoors, it's my new bamboo that draws all the eyes these days. Come evening, when the lamps are lit, the Buddha candle holder sitting next to it casts an enchanting shadow on the wall behind. As if Buddha himself has come to life! Serenaded by his composed figure looming large in the illuminated corner of the living room, life feels blessed. Surely, not a lot in the world that these small joys can't cure.

Change

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."

~ Anatole France

I wish I could frame and structure my emotions better than what the great poet has already said, and how beautifully. Achingly beautiful, actually. How very ironic it all seems - when the whole world around me is undergoing a spring makeover and getting dressed in the splendor of a newly sprouted green, inside, I am groping for ways to embrace this whole other kind of change.

Change, however insignificant or huge, has never been my forte. An annoyingly stubborn creature of habit, I can crack and burst under the slightest of pressures, a trait I have continually loathed. Last week saw the beginning of the much dreaded goodbyes - bittersweet dinners and parting gifts - and as much as I would wish this all away, I know it's out there lurking around the corner.
However this time, I'm still in one piece and that is quite unusually strong for someone like me. The feeling is yet to sink in, although the countdown has certainly begun knocking at the back of my head. I don't know if this is good or bad but trudge on I must, belting my emotions for a proper unleashing, for some day quiet and befitting. Whether this is being brave or just wallowing in denial, let it just be. It's only a handful of days anyway.

The sparrows have come back in flocks and broods. The bird-feeder, never left a moment alone, swings in joy from the dance of their communal meal. Jostling for space while eyeing that next precious morsel, the patio fills in with their noisy chatter. The furry little guy has returned too from his long winter sleep, scurrying up and down the mossy branches, sometimes even hanging upside down in the most precarious of positions. Plump, promising buds on my potted azalea stir to burst open, the full-bodied May bloom of which I won't be here to see. Unfamiliar birds grace the berry tree, just like new future residents will inhabit this apartment. Chocolate-pecan scones, the last of the homemade goodies to come out of my oven here. And thus, the temperamental baker signs off. Of course, for the time being only. 

Lavender craze

After the much loud and unladylike whining in the last couple of posts, I am all elegant and wise again. At least I shall try, despite myself. The deluge of regrets and rants have been tossed to where it belongs - yesterday. Dieu merci!! The catalyst is always a book, or a movie (these days it is mostly French and hence the broken, ungrammatical bits of phrases and expressions!), or a piece of chaste nature. And nature it is - lavender, the enchantress! As an ardent admirer of the tiny yet powerfully magical flowers and that haunting fragrance, lavender means so much more to me - colour, hope, love, and above all tranquility. I have always envied my fellow bloggers who live in the to-die-for scenic English and French countrysides and enjoy nature's bounty to the hilt, where they could have a complete lavender farm to themselves. Why lavender, any other flower for that matter. Sigh! No matter, no matter... With a solitary pot that has been generous enough to burst and bow with purple glory, I have made Provence out of my cozy green patio. Hence soothed and lulled to the very bones, I write this, enwrapped in my purple dreams.

Ooh and yes, there are the dried flowers too. How about a lavender cupcake one of these days?!

The dainty lavender lady fluttering in the wind

Peeping over The Art of Fiction

Afternoon tea with the other patio friends - Miss Gerby (gerbera) and Miss Gery (geranium)

Dried lavender flowers

And, the happy moi. All purged!

A patio and an oven II

A few more stories, freshly baked and sun-bathed...

My very own March Hare! But sadly, I'm no Alice although this city is no less than a Wonderland. Just to watch this precious creature munch away the greens is one of my most reliable stress-busters.

Chocolate cupcake batter, ready to get into the oven for that much needed puffing and preening.

And here they are! Chocolate cupcakes with red jelly icing.

A baby gerbera beaming with pride after its victory over lack of water and sun. Blame me, for the yellowing leaves and prolonged flowerlessness had almost convinced me of its decay.

And finally, the observer.

A patio and an oven

This lady sings all by herself, swaying in the wind and sometimes acting coy too when she catches an admirer watching her with a cup of tea.

My sturdy azaleas, all decked up in their summery pink finery.

Geranium, for that much needed 'red' for my patio. 

No tantrums with this lassie!

Blueberry muffins, plump and pretty just out of the oven.

The little neighbour's bike. Blessed childhood!