My Hidden Garden

I stood in the paddock, warm sunshine on my back and neck, a soft breeze in this glorious morning and as I stretched out my arms to the warmth I began to spin. Around and around and around like a child. When I finally stopped my head swam and I stumbled back to the car. As I made my way I found myself asking awesome Mother Nature for some clarity: ‘You had better start educating me on how this all works because this is a waste of time. Whatever it is you have in store for us in this place you need to let me in on it so that we can work together, flow as one’.

I had spent many hours clearing that little citrus grove. Many more pruning all the overgrown shrubs to let in the light and the breeze so that our little hidden citrus garden may recover and come back to full strength. More hours still fertilizing and mulching. They were far from fantastic yet, but they seemed to be improving as the little orange fruits dotting the trees gave me new hope. I had finally gotten rid of the last of the dead wood and debris on the weekend and a sense of accomplishment set in.

Mother Nature wouldn’t even give me a week. It was 4am when I woke up to the sound of deep cracking we have learned to recognise in our new paradise. Another tree is coming down. The cracking seemed to go on forever and then a final thump. I saw siluhettes of trees giving way in the dark as it brushed passed them.

After a while in torchlight we found the place; a branch off one of the old majestic trees, a branch larger and heavier than many of the 32 trees that have come down since we arrived here less than a year ago. A year of storms and rains not seen in 30 years, floods, and gale force winds –the latter apparently not uncommon, in and amongst many other disasters. It has been a year of destruction and devastation. I heard some whimpering in the dark and hoped these animals were merely in shock. Not much could be seen and less could be done until daybreak so I went back to bed. My boys were already sleeping again –It seemed chaos had become our new normal.

When I went to inspect the damage in the morning my fears had been confirmed. Our hidden garden was in shambles and my citruses –pancakes. Some were split and broken and others completely flattened. One, I believe, was unscathed. I could see no injured or dead animal around -at least that, I thought. I had spent much time in the past months trying to figure out how to get the light back in, my actions this year followed by next year’s plan. I now looked up at the broken tree above. At the opposite end another huge old tree had lost some branches –collateral damage. Our little grove seemed wider somehow, opened up and drenched in sunlight, a light blue sky stretching above.

‘You need to explain this to me’, I repeated to ‘her awesomeness’ as I drove off.
‘I won’t ask you to work with me, I am happy to be the one working with you as I do not claim wisdom to all this. But you need to explain to me how all this works if we are to flow together. Explain it to me so that I can understand. I am not that desperate for groceries, but I need to get out of here for a while. Let your message find its way home by the time I return’.

As I drove on I found myself trying to be open and positive. I let cars through graciously. I gave radio songs some extra open attention. I tried not to shut down to anything or shut anything out. When I got to the shops and went through the veggie isles as I usually do I looked at the lemons. Maybe I should buy some, I thought. And finally dark came over me and lightness vanished. I think my face was solid for the rest of the outing. I bought groceries and some take away food. I didn’t bother with the rest. All the way back I felt anger. How is that for a real F-You: ‘You had to wait until I had finished putting all of myself into it before you stamped it down. Just to make sure I was paying attention?’

As I drove back I thought of the creek surrounding our home. I thought of the big rains and the floods. How the little creek turned into a raging torrent, sweeping everything in its way. I had never seen water like that. The power is lost when you see footage on TV, but when you are standing in front of such a sight in the middle of a raging storm you know you are experiencing a true flood for the first time. As I drove back I saw the creek again in my mind’s eye, quiet after the storm had settled. It was much wider than it was before as all the debris had been washed away, and with it some of the bank. The bottom was clear and rocks were visible for the first time after the floods had cleansed it and opened it up. And so many trees down, then and after with the big winds that followed. So much destruction. As I remembered these visions and contemplated destruction in its essence I thought of Kali Ma, the goddess of destruction. We had been on her agenda this year, no doubt. She has been residing with us here in our newfound paradise. Death and destruction. Death and rebirth. As I drove in through the gates it echoed in my mind, I am not sure where from: ‘An extremely devastating and destructive year to clear the way for a magnificent new start’.

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