This is the last time
The urgency of spring and summer are over. The only sound is the rhythmic purring of the wood pigeon and the breeze rattling the dry leaves on the butterfly bush, grown huge over the summer. A peacock butterfly dazzles on one of the few remaining flowers, not yet gone to seed.
A solitary bee is patrolling the storm-battered flowerbed. It stumbles across the tightly packed flower of a climbing rose, folded down into the dirt by the wind. The yellow flower heads of the fennel wiggle in the breeze. Their long, thin stalks belie their strength, defiantly-upright through wind and rain. The parasol nasturtium leaves are lit by the sun, disks of luminous green with pinkish stalks.
The sky looks exactly like a sky should look, with threads of white clouds floating against a deep, bright blue. All hints of the roiling, dirty, low storm-sky have vanished into thin air. The garden has a quiet relaxed energy. All the work of growing and reproducing is done. It is time to rest.
I sip my tea knowing, I won’t be sitting out here in my pyjamas in a few weeks time. Peeling off my cardigan I luxuriate in the warmth of the morning sun on my arms and face. I hope this won’t be the last time.
Our life is full of ‘last times’ that we didn’t notice, because we didn’t know it was going to be the last time. The last time your child wanted to hold your hand to cross the road before they grew too old. The last time you ever did a cartwheel, before you lost the courage. The last swallow you saw, before they left for the year. The last cigarette you ever smoked before you finally stuck to your promise and gave up. There are so many things in our day-to-day life that might be significant but we don’t know it at the time.
Events often pass us by because we’re busy, focussed on the future or the past. We simply forget to notice. We miss out on so many beautiful moments. And we never know which ones will turn out to be important.
I try to collect moments of beauty in my memory. I set aside time to notice all the sensations of smell, taste, texture, colour, sound and soak them in. Weeks later, when the weather has driven me indoors and my mind is busy with new preoccupations, a colour, sound or smell will trigger the memory. I savour it. Sometimes I feel so far away from that past version of myself and other times, so close. It’s a kind of circuit breaker, a minute long retreat into a lovely bubble of connection and belonging.
The more you do it, the more you strengthen the neural circuits to take you to these little private sanctuaries in your mind. Try setting a time every day to intentionally notice the beauty in nature for one minute. See how you feel at the end of the week. I’d love to know how you get on – drop me a line!