Seed drop

Two months without a post on here. And I have not written much online for the whole of this year so far. But conversely my personal journal notebook, which usually lasts me a whole year quite easily, is nearly full with still a couple of months left to write! It’s just a different kind of writing.

Recently I attended a workshop on the ancient contemplative practice of Lectio Divina, and the transformative power of words, especially from sacred texts. As part of a suggested exercise I meditated on these words written by the Old Testament prophet Isaiah; “As seeds to the sower, and bread to the hungry, so shall my word be… it shall not return to me empty”

The images of words as seeds and bread are powerful ones with lots of layers. At this time of year I love the the colours of the falling leaves, but also the profusion of seeds being released into the unknown. This is a season of endings, but also a promise of beginnings. On our kitchen windowsill are squash seeds being dried for next year and mustard seeds sprouting now. I have a whole basket of flower seeds, some already scattered, some waiting for the spring.

My musing on seeds was further stimulated by a stall at Wimborne Green Festival this weekend. Rapanui are a company sowing seeds of sustainable fashion and clothes manufacture methods and I encourage you to check out their website. But it was a slogan on one of their t shirts which drew my attention.


It’s not just the seeds sown in my garden which make a difference, Carol Ann Duffy’s newly commissioned poem for the centenary of Armistice Day is a powerful word seed. Read it here.F48AB82C-C488-44F3-BA82-B27CC5B493A1

The challenge to us all is what kind of seeds are we sowing, in words and action. The seeds we drop today will be the harvest we reap.


Why bother?

I haven’t written much on this Journal blog recently, and I have even wondered whether to keep going with it. But I have been reminded of the worth of journal writing and diary keeping recently by my cousin-in-law Wendy and her blog transcribing the diaries of a Victorian gardener Thomas Ruddy.

86C923EA-A3EF-49A5-97C5-34B0C4EBE3CCThe blog is a labour of love for her, and provides us with a fascinating insight into a life lived in a different way to mine, and yet not so long ago. The glimpses of another place and time would not have been possible without the faithful journaling of Thomas. And also, in recent postings, we have seen how his diaries have interwoven with those of royalty, when Queen Victoria stayed at Palé Hall, visited his gardens, inspected his fossil collection and ate his peaches! He describes her desire for him to take cuttings from the sprigs of myrtle which are in her bouquet, in memory of Albert. And Victoria in turn records in her diaries the anniversary of Albert’s death during her visit. Read more here. Photos from Wendy’s blog.

How is any of this relevant to us today I ask myself? Why do we bother to write diaries, journals, blogs and post on Facebook? Many would say it is because we write to make sense of things, we create narrative to explore the meanings of our lives, and to make connections with others. In Victorian times journals were perhaps more descriptive than emotional. In the 20th century journals became more personal and reflective, narrating inner journeys.

Thomas’s descriptions of Queen Victoria in his journals, her accounts of her visit to Palé Hall in her diaries, and our own narratives in whatever form, illustrate our common humanity. Whether we are reading the everyday stories of gardeners or monarchs, from what ever century, the common threads appear. Stories of the continuity of life, growth, bearing fruit and facing death. Our delight in the seasons of flowering and harvest, our wonder at incomprehensible time scales, and the pain of endings. So perhaps I will keep up the tradition with my daily 10 minute journaling, blogging and enjoying the garden after all!

Ghosts laid, friendships renewed

My writing on this blog has dried up in recent months, just like the weather! We’ve had virtually no rain since we returned from Spain in May, and life has been dominated by a regime of watering the allotment and trying to keep the plants alive.

Over the last few days we went for a planned break around East Anglia – the further east we went the hotter it was. Even with temperatures in the 30s most days we enjoyed the beauty of “Constable” country. We found the birthplace of great great grandfather William Sparks, and the tidal estuaries of the Orwell and the Stour were great places to catch a refreshing breeze.

We drove on towards Norfolk, exploring the layers of history in this whole area from the Anglo Saxon treasures at Sutton Hoo, to dominating castles, and soaring cathedrals. We were treated to some beautiful music in Norwich cathedral to celebrate Norfolk Day, and wandered bustling, busy market day in a sunny Ely. It was a time of meeting up and reminiscing with friends with relatives, some not seen for many years. Ghosts laid and friendships renewed.

Under the mountain

From the height of the mountains of La Alpujarras yesterday we went underground today. Near to Nerja is a cave system, “discovered” in 1959 by some local lads who broke through the narrow entrance in to the amazing caverns beyond. Their discovery demonstrated they weren’t the first humans to visit the caves. Human remains, prehistoric tools and many cave paintings show that these caves were first inhabited and used from about 25000 BC. Sea fishers and hunter gatherers painted their prey, and sometimes buried their dead.

Today as tourists we can access the first series of caverns, which are cathedral like in their size and splendour. Our own photos don’t capture the reality. So these are from the cave publicity. Since we first visited the Nerja caves some years ago the visitor experience is a bit better managed with timed tours and an audio visual orientation, but busier with lots of school children and more expensive!

We also located the new Nerja Museum in the centre of town which now houses some of the archeological discoveries from the caves as well as presenting the history of the area. The building is bright and modern, but not overwhelming in its content and presentation, and there was a lot of confusion as to when it was actually open! However, we were glad to see that attempts are being made to preserve and allow public access to the unique archaeological discoveries and historical research connected with these amazing caves and beautiful coastal town.


Mountain high

Today we took a tour east from Nerja along the coast to Salobrena and then turned inland into the foot hills of the Alpujarras mountains. I had recently been enjoying rereading Driving over Lemons, the best seller written by Chris Stewart ex drummer from the band Genesis. He describes his experiences of living in this remote area in the 1970s. It is still remote, but there are signs of development, not least the amazing new reservoir and motorway systems running through the valley and completed since we last took this trip.

We made a couple of stops, one to view a set of three bridges which illustrate the history of the tracks which traced this area, an Arab bridge, a medieval one and a 21st century bridge, all one on top of the other. Then a coffee stop in Lanjeron, a spa town once as famous as Bath in the UK but now sadly neglected.

Then we climbed on, up and up, hair pin bends on the mountain road, the coach making some ominous noises all the way! Eventually we arrived at Pampaneira, a tiny white village perched on the side of the mountains, with the snow of the Sierra Nevada range clearly visible above us.

After a wine tasting, accompanied by the wonderful regional cheese and a ham, we wandered the village. I was especially thrilled to discover an artisan weaver, Mercedes Carascossa. Her handwoven tapestries are unique! And we had another enjoyable tasting sesssion in a tiny artisan chocolate factory, with its huge variety of flavours. We bought some too of course!


Sunny day lunch

Dawn over the mountains behind Nerja was beautiful, and promised a day of sunshine. So we walked through the town to Burriana beach. It is busier and more developed since we first came here, but the palm trees on the headland make their distinctive outline still. Perhaps just a little taller and thicker after a few years growth.

My attempt at sketching on the beach shows just how difficult painting landscapes are to do! Ah well, keep practising….

We booked for Sunday lunch at a restaurant recommended by some friends back home, Jackys (read more here…) They offered an eight course tasting menu which sounded intriguing. We were not disappointed, excellent food, a wonderful variety of interesting tastes and ingredients, and constant wine refills all included. A great way to spend a sunny Sunday afternoon. It was followed by a long siesta of course!


The rain in Spain …

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain… so the saying goes. Well, today we were heading for mountains under blue skies.

On a tour to Ronda we stopped off first for coffee and a wander in the strange little village of Setenile de las Bodegas. Situated in a deep gorge many of the houses are built under the overhanging rocks, and one street was actually a tunnel. A little market with some interesting stalls made it all feel cramped but quaint, and the coffee was very good (and cheap!)

Then on to Ronda, higher in the mountains but again built around a deep gorge. Inhabited by a successions of Romans, Arabs and others its Moorish influence was every where in the architecture and tiles. After an excellent wine and tapas tasting stop we were free to wander and take in the sites of this ancient city. Walking the amazing “new” bridge is one of them, even if the experience of looking straight down into the gorge is a bit daunting.

Sounds of distant thunder followed us as we wandered and when the first raindrops began to fall we decided to explore the Mondragon Palace,  a fourteenth century house which now houses a Museum. We were glad we did, not only because of the fascinating exhibitions showing the history of the region from prehistoric times, and the amazing cave systems running through the mountains, but also because of the torrential downpours which followed, which we observed from the windows.

Eventually emerged again under our umbrellas ( thank goodness we had brought them) and navigated the narrow streets which were now rivers. We paddled our way back to the coach and dried off slowly on the journey back to the coast (which was warm and sunny!) Seems like the rain in Spain can reach the mountains too.