Oh, my bloomin' heart

"I made heart," the gardener said. And he had.

J comes every Thursday. He's been part of our life for almost as long as we've lived here - he worked with The Husband on nearly all his fencing jobs and has worked in our garden for almost as long.

Until he had an unhappy - for everyone - detour with crystal meth. "Working" in our garden was just feeding the habit. We had to let him go. It was tough. Then, in January this year, he popped his head over the fence. In his words - just to say hello, and ask how we were. He was unrecognisabile. He was no longer the gaunt, grey looking young man of nearly a year prior. Looking at me, was a rounded face, bright eyes and a big smile. He wasn't asking for a hand out or work. (We had done what we could to help during Covid). He had a job down the road and was passing.

Anyway, I was blown away at the transformation. As it turns out, his cousin - who had originally introduced us all - was working in the garden at the time. To cut a long story short, S decided he wanted to take a course and J returned. He knew he had to prove himself. That process began in February. And boy, has he stepped up to the plate?

Big time, and it began while The Husband was in hospital and he's...well...I get quite emotional. I now know I can rely on him. The Husband would have been proud at how he's turned his life around. I am. I told tell him so.

Any way, I digress.

When J arrives, we tour the garden and decide what needs to be done - both in the garden and the odd other thing that I don't know how to, or can't, do. He does because The Husband showed him.

Back to the rambling rose heart. It was on our tour, and after a discussion about how to cope with expenses associated with his child's birthday (and a chocolate cake) that he pointed to the rambling rose he'd threaded through the fence in the shape of a heart. We stood remembering how skeptical The Husband had been when we'd transplanted it. He hadn't believed me when I said it would survive and that it would be pink - self-sown from the hedge in another part of the garden.

When it bloomed the next season (about two years ago), The Husband graciously ate his words.

At about the same time, we planted strawberries among the other roses, now covered in buds. If you didn't know, strawberries and roses make the best bedfellows. For obvious reasons, they've been neglected this year, but are still bearing.

The garden is just blooming.

We had been waiting for this azalea to bloom. Last year, it had a solitary flower. This year, it's covered with them. My idea: a splash of colour in the depths of the spring flower bed. It works. Surrounded by self-sown parsley.

That I celebrate it in solitude is bittersweet.

Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma
Post script

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