Like the oak tree, we grow one layer at a time – gathering wisdom through our experiences and everyday adventures. These musings trace the artful life, and every ring tells its own tale: a moment held, a season turning, a dandelion seed carried on the wind. The story is still unfolding.
After ten weeks of renovating our new home, I finally unpacked the first boxes in my studio. I wanted it to be perfect, of course – fresh walls, warm light, everything in its place. But it isn’t. Some walls are still waiting for paint, the windows for curtains and the room for heating. My mum’s beautiful vintage bookcase is too tall and her wooden cabinet can’t make it up the stairs. And yet… there is so much to love already. An olive-green wall, bamboo beneath my feet and the hollyhock swaying in the wind beside our magnolia. The Monstera I once gave away, returned as a housewarming gift. My mum’s favourite knitted sweater folded over a chair. A simple trestle desk, pen and paper, my handmade books – all gathered in this sanctuary. A place where the world softens and I can listen to the whispers of my heart. Between my brushes, I found Vivian Greene’s words: “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain”. And I smiled, remembering: you don’t need to wait for perfect. You can dance right here… among half-painted walls, scattered boxes and the tender beauty of what already is.
As the magnolia is blossoming in all her pink beauty on our balcony, we’re dreaming of a place where she can put down roots. But where to find a new home where she could grow? Reading Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden, I suddenly have my answer. Just follow in Mary’s footsteps: go outside everyday and a friendly robin will show you the key. On one of my walks through the city, I stop by a large magnolia tree. It reminds me of the first time my mum and I saw a magnolia. “Isn’t this the most beautiful tree you’ve ever seen? How I would love to have a tree like this one day!” my mum had said. She never did have one in her hillside garden. So when it was time to bury her, I knew it would have to be in the serene place underneath the majestic magnolia, with the branches gently swaying in the wind above her. And so having one in our garden would be a beautiful way to honour her spirit. For now, I tell myself to be patient and trust that what you seek is also seeking you.
As the fog slowly lifts from the river dale, we soak up a few hazy rays of sun. Around us the blue tits are flying to and fro between the trees. Looking up I notice a bit of Traveller’s-Joy climbing up the branches of one of them. Come, let’s take a look! When we get closer, I realise they aren’t the fruits of a clematis at all. Instead they’re branches covered in frost with their ends dipped in frozen water drops. The soft light makes them glisten like tiny diamonds. The silken threads of a spider web hang in the tree like a frosted garland. We cherish these beautiful gifts of nature, as we celebrate the arrival of midwinter by the pine tree. It makes me reflect on the values I want to pass on to our little one, especially in a culture that seems to be oriented towards gold. Whenever I feel lost, I find inspiration in Sharon Blackie’s The Enchanted Life. She writes about the everyday magic that comes from deepening our connection to the natural world. Be present and you can find wonder where ever you go.
Out on our balcony garden the dahlias brighten my mood as the rain clouds drift by. I love how they remind me that it’s never too late to bloom. Growing up I always looked with envy at the kids who were blossoming; while I felt gangly and perpetually behind. I couldn’t have imaged then that I would be well into my thirties before I’d figure things out. Even as I was writing a PhD thesis on the topic of authenticity, I never once asked what all of that meant for me. It took a rather harsh wake-up call, before I started to build my life around the oak tree. Looking back I feel so blessed by the fact that I found the courage to leave the well-trodden path that others expected of me and to create a life filled with meaning and love. Not having lived a life true to themselves is the biggest regret people have at the end of their lives, as Bronnie Ware shows so beautifully in her book The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. So let these autumns flowers inspire you to be brave and live the way you want to.