History or constant and exciting reinvention?  That’s my question today.  Here you have two homes, one for sale and located in Perthshire in Scotland, the other also for sale and to be found on the west coast of Canada.  They are similar in size and in the same price bracket, both requiring much more than an average salary to purchase.  I’m not going to compare style but I’m trying to understand something.  The Perthshire stone built home is anywhere from 50-200 years old, the Canadian timber home built in the last 10 years.  Each home will require a substantial salary(s) to purchase or considerable savings, a mortgage if needed would take a lifetime to pay off.

 What I’m trying to understand is what I see all around me.  Since I moved into my area, on my small road alone four homes have been demolished completely and new ones rebuilt.  The ‘old’ homes would be no more than 30-45 years old.  It’s true also that these homes will not last as well as their Scottish counterpart, partly due to the prevalent attitudes in the construction industry here but also to do with the materials used.  The expectation is that their lives will be short.  Okay, so that’s the way they like it.  What I don’t understand is why they’re so in love with the antiquity and history of the old countries like Britain, but they do nothing whatsoever to build to last here and preserve what they have.  Why?  Does anyone have any ideas?   

Hello ‘symptoms of eloquence’ - as we were talking roses, I thought I would try to show you my small, unimpressive specimens.  I’m not over keen on roses, well I like them but they don’t move me like little wild flowers that grow in the grass between mowings (a lengthy time in our yard), nor as much as the small purpley blooms a rosemary bush produces but I like them nevertheless.  I admire these because they’re stoic and ancient, they’ve been in the garden and withstood at least 6 occupants, have been here for over 40 years, get nothing from me other than the occasional trim and still valiantly bloom each year.  They have the most delicate scent and their colour (not quite captured in this photo) is an antique shade of reddy-pink.  I like to imagine the first couple in this home, planting these hopefully and nurturing them, sure that they would see them grow.  I think they did and have a feeling they left in their older years when the house and garden became unmanageable.  If flowers could talk, what stories would they tell?  Prince Charles might be able to tell me something about that.  

greeneyedempath:

“It is important from time to time
to slow down, to go away by yourself,
and simply BE.”
~ Eileen Caddy

The story of the person who wrote these words is as interesting as the words themselves.

“Findhorn is located on the northeast coast of Scotland, near the small town of Forres.  It is remarkably beautiful, with gorgeous evergreen forests, gentle hills and sand dunes backing onto the fierce North Sea.  ”The Findhorn Community was begun in 1962 by Peter and Eileen Caddy and Dorothy Maclean. All three had followed disciplined spiritual paths for many years. They first came to northeast Scotland in 1957 to manage the Cluny Hill Hotel in the town of Forres, which they did remarkably successfully. Eileen received guidance in her meditations from an inner divine source she called ‘the still small voice within’ and Peter ran the hotel according to this guidance and his own intuition. In this unorthodox way – and with many delightful and unlikely incidents – Cluny Hill swiftly became a thriving and successful four-star hotel. After several years however, Peter and Eileen’s employment was terminated, and with nowhere to go and little money, they moved with their three young sons and Dorothy to a caravan in the nearby seaside village of Findhorn.

Feeding six people on unemployment benefit was difficult, so Peter decided to start growing vegetables. The land in the caravan park was sandy and dry but he persevered. Dorothy discovered she was able to intuitively contact the overlighting spirits of plants – which she called angels, and then devas – who gave her instructions on how to make the most of their fledgling garden. She and Peter translated this guidance into action, and with amazing results. From the barren sandy soil of the Findhorn Bay Caravan Park grew huge plants, herbs and flowers of dozens of kinds, most famously the now-legendary 40-pound cabbages. Word spread, horticultural experts came and were stunned, and the garden at Findhorn became famous.”

(For more information about Findhorn and how it has developed into the Findhorn Foundation, the community it is today, click on the link.)

“…she delighted in the small things…She had a gorgeous garden…The path leading to it was lined with lavender and a variety of roses, the roses climbing to form a scented tunnel.”  (© S. Marian, an excerpt from “It’s the Small Things,” to be posted tomorrow on “A View From Outside the Box,” url: adialogue)

I am sure a psychologist would wax eloquent on the subject of my love for the amanita muscaria.  I cannot explain it and can only say, they are one of the small things that make me smile.  

Hello ‘symptoms-of-eloquence’ from one not very green thumbed gardener to another.  I’ve been thinking about that perfect garden we talked about.  It would have different areas, a balance of the cultivated and the wild.  It would be replete with flowers and bees would call it home but it needs trees too, lots of trees and herbs.  I just love a herb garden.  Finally, it would definitely need to have plenty of comfy seating.  Can you not imagine throwing some plush rugs and cushions in this striking copper hanging chair and reading or dreaming the afternoon away?