A Garden for Pablo: A quick pick-me-up

Tuesday, 18 February 2014

A quick pick-me-up

For me, January is always the most depressing month of the year but, statistically, February is the month when most suicides occur.

The grounds of Redworth Hall

To overcome that February feeling I recommend a walk in a garden – almost any garden would do – but if you’ve time take a quick drive to Redworth Hall near Shildon to see the snowdrops and aconites and you’ll find your winter blues disappear. I guarantee it.

Snowdrops and aconites

1 comment:

Wendy R25 February 2014 at 06:26
I agree with you about February. Seems like the end of everything, Love your picture - particularly the trees. Majestic and cheering. wx
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Garden Lore

Who will take care of this garden, who will nurture it?

I will, said January.

I will anchor it to the earth with snowdrops.

I will give it my stone, the garnet.

It is mine, said February.

I will feed it the memory of all that grows.

I will welcome it with amethyst and primrose.

I will coax it with bloodstone and daffodil, said March.

Like a boxer battered by winter

I will lift myself from the frosty canvas of the earth to welcome it.

With diamond and daisy I will seduce it.

I will soak it in shower after shower, said April.

In the yawny earth its seeds will riot.

I will make it dizzy with emeralds

And the fumes of the hawthorn, said May.

It will know of nothing but play.

And I will adorn it with a necklace

Of honeysuckle and ruby, said June.

It will dance to my languid tune.

I will contain it, said July.

I will handcuff it with briar and chrysolite,

Drug it with the scent of roses.

August spoke from the garden’s stillness.

I will weep layer upon layer of sardonyx.

I will teach it the brevity of poppies.

When its bones begin to creak

I will cure it with aster and opal,

promised September.

I will guide it towards sleep with the cold light of sapphires;

For its lullaby I will provide the swan song of dahlias,

said October.

Under the weight of dead chrysanthemums I will bury it,

said November. I will give it a headstone of topaz,

a rosary of berries.

And I will guard its sleep, said December.

On a pillow of moonstone

It will dream of holly and the coming snowdrop.

Brian Patten