There was something about the upturned, newly developed, transformed garden. I could no longer see black and grey and sing “they paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” She made jam from the plums that grew on the trees there and sold them in broad square glass bottles. I love it.
It was not a place that you would associate with any shade of unhappiness. The flowers were in full bloom on a March morning and the stillness in the air felt strangely good. Children smiling at their distorted faces in the lotus pond and distorting those reflections even further by throwing in the tiny pebbles we used to line the pathways was a beautiful sight.
My favourite couple- together since forty two years, childhood romance and all that; sat in the gazebo that patterned their skin by allowing selective light to come through to the bench in the center. They looked beautiful. I waited for her to come join me and write lyrics to the new tune we composed so we could sing it to them. Starting at the blank page didn’t even feel like it was writer’s block. I was just taking my time to absorb my surrounding. Creating that green space continues to be a journey, a massively satisfying one because it gave birth to something that wasn’t just personal; it gave birth to a community.