I love this time of year--the transition from summer to autumn. It's still warm during the day, but chilly at night. Great for sleeping. I don't always sleep straight through the night until morning, but no matter. I know that I can catch up on some sleep during the day. My first thought upon waking is often my garden. I so look forward to being there. Today is one of those days where I know I can be in my garden undisturbed by obligations and chores. I'm done with most of the garden chores--harvesting, pruning the berry bushes, cutting the grass, and planting new perennials. I'll plant garlic cloves at the end of September as well as some tulip bulbs and the like. The major garden cleanup can wait until spring; that way the birds and insects have plants to feed upon during the winter months. There are so many birds, bees, and butterflies in the garden at present. I love seeing them there.
When the sun shines like it does today, I feel happy and free. When I get to the garden, perhaps I'll continue reading one of the books I started months ago. I did that on Sunday when we had Visitors Day in the garden. I haven't felt much like reading since my operation, but the desire is slowly returning. Visitors Day was enjoyable; I met many people who visited my garden, and we talked about plants and being on the waiting list to get an allotment garden. Several people commented on how beautiful my garden is. I thanked them. It is a beautiful garden that I've poured my heart and soul into. I'm proud of the results, but I know that none of it would have been possible without God's help. He has been with me every step of the way, and I feel that even more since my operation. Just knowing that I could return to working in my garden was a major goal during my recovery. It waited for me and took care of itself while I was ill. That's the beauty of a (mostly) perennial garden. Eventually the only thing you really need to do is water the garden a few times a week.
I could focus on a few negative things that have happened recently, but I won't. Suffice it to say that I've learned who my real friends are, and I'm intentionally moving on from those who are not. People show you their true colors, especially when you are ill. My husband commented recently on the few friends here who showed up for me. It's not that they could help me very much--he has helped me the most--but they visited, took contact, sent get-well cards or bought me flowers. It meant and means a great deal to me. Just to be able to talk about what I went through and to let it out, has been a relief for me. A relief that some people would actually listen to me without wanting to jump in immediately and tell me that it's all going to be fine. A relief that some people made time for me. I will forever treasure how I was treated by the doctors, nurses, physiotherapists, and the health personnel generally. Their kindness stands out and washes away the carelessness of the so-called friends who are not friends. I choose to focus on the positive, and have support for that approach from Matthew Kelly's book The Fourth Quarter of Your Life: Embracing What Matters Most. It is truly a wonderful book about how to approach getting older/old, and I recommend it for anyone over fifty years of age. The wisdom contained in its pages is priceless. Old age is often referred to as the autumn and/or winter of life. It's fitting that I finished the book as we prepare for the autumn season. Reading the book freed me from worrying about how to deal with certain situations. I've made some intentional decisions and have let go of what hurt me or made me sad. Life is too short to focus on the callousness of others. I am not callous nor will I ever be. Society encourages that now, but it hasn't changed me. What matters most is how we love others, and also ourselves. What matters most is integrity and remaining true to our values and the voice in our soul that guides us onward in life.
