Gardeners
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Sacred Sorrow
I was on my knees, in the garden. If she was a person, we would have been forehead to forehead, and I would be whispering my sorry into her skin. But she was not a person. She was a plant.… Continue reading
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Truth
I am drinking night-time tea, writing, as if to write to a lover of feelings yet to be spoken. I’ve been in the garden today. I sometimes wish my Nan was still alive so I could ask her: ‘Is this… Continue reading
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Little Koala Arms
Such adorable little roots. And no one is more surprised than I am that my plant journey has taken me this way. It was just the way of the wind and so I flew there, in a great big gust… Continue reading