It’s really windy today and I’m reminded of a poem.
“Who has seen the wind? Neither you, nor I, but when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing by.”
This is pretty close to the poem, but I can’t guarantee it is absolutely spot-on. Back to the wind-tossed trees, which are violently twisting and dancing in the gusts. I think the trees I see are poplars, and the leaves, while green on one side are almost white underneath and the wind stirs them into an ever-changing picture.
And once in a while one escapes and rushes away, either floating quickly east or scurrying along the road.
When your view is as restricted as mine, everything that’s different becomes interesting — not necessarily thrilling, but interesting. I lead a very quiet life.
Every Friday there is a meeting here of a group of women who want to write and each week we try to produce a piece of our own ideas, opinions or just something of general interest.
Each one of us secretly hopes to write “The Great Canadian Novel” but so far, no luck. But where there’s life, there’s hope, it is said and wouldn’t it be fun?
We could boast to the whole world, “I actually knew her. We even belonged to the same writers’ group.
Dreamers, the whole lot of us, but it’s harmless and who knows? Maybe, just maybe.
The idea keeps us scribbling anyway and keeps us out of bars or from standing on busy street corners.
I must tell you that last week was very productive. I have enough flowers to start a small florist’s shop.
People that have a flower garden and come for a visit often bring flowers. This is not a hint, or a suggestion, by the way — you can come empty-handed and be just as welcome (just don’t ask for sugar in your tea).
Please smile! I’m only teasing, honestly.
But thank you for the lovely blossoms, you dear friends.
The clematis that I had hoped to dig up and give to my friend Cher appeared to have died from all the disturbance, but lo and behold, there is life in it yet.
It is sending out leaves and is more than welcome to do so.
I may keep it for this year just to make sure it knows I’m so glad it didn’t die after all!
Or maybe not. I’ll just wait to see what unfolds this spring. You may get it yet, Cher!
Helen Lang has been the Peninsula News Review’s garden columnist for more than 30 years.