November
There are still flowers in the garden to use in the early part of the month, and I find myself doing a few bowls to try and forget something quite upsetting that has recently happened. I say the words “trust your gut” every day in classes, and I wish I occasionally listened to myself. The world gets even madder from this point in time and every day I wonder if I’m the one who is out of kilter. A lot of tea is drunk.
Our last class of flowers and photography lifts my spirits. Seeing how much Karen and Jo have learned this year and watching them effortlessly make the most beautiful bouquets and eagerly photograph them in just the right light is enough of a reminder that, just for now, I should “keep on keeping on”.
(Bouquet by Karen of Petal & Bee)
(Bouquet by Jo of Oxalis)
Sally – who has been on a couple of classes this year – agrees to be our model for the day. A couple of hours with her is guaranteed to make you laugh and I persuade her to do a little project with me next year (in fact I have a couple of projects for next year that might not set the world on fire but that I hope will make me happy).
(Photo by Sarah Mason)
Our dear friend and neighbour Roger tells me he might be going off to a better woodshed. He persuades me that we need to do another calendar and we all spend a precious afternoon capturing a few golden moments in front of his 2019 art installation. A couple of weeks go by and, with a final “thumbs up” sign and a cup of tea that he tells me “tastes like nectar”, he peacefully leaves the small corner – albeit with a gaping hole.
Utterly bereft, I spend a day with Jill Shaddock planting all the tulips. A lot of them are called Rembrandt, which makes me think of Roger, who always looked particularly good in Rembrandt light….. Maybe by the spring, if the tulips flourish, we’ll do something with them….
December
In need of some quiet time, we pack up the car with the small dog (and the obligatory bucket of flowers that I don’t actually use) and run away to sea again. On Kingsbarns beach a day before Christmas the small dog leads my eye to a rainbow.
