Moving on...

On Monday we went to my friend H's funeral in Melrose. It was very sad and somewhat strange. Two of my friends were killed in car accidents when they were 23, which was very awful. One of them was H's sister, and the other was one of my very best friends from when we were 5. Both deaths were huge shocks. I lost another good friend about ten years ago, but since then, no one of my age who was very close to me has died, which I suppose makes me very lucky. But I'll be 75 in the summer, so, facing facts, this is likely to keep happening in the coming years. My mum lost absolutely all of the friends from her youth; that's what tends to happen if you live till you're 90. Mum fortunately made various younger friends in her old age, which was lovely for her. 

H and I hadn't fallen out at all, but she became somewhat reclusive in her latter years, so I hadn't seen her for some considerable time, though we kept in touch. I always thought we might meet up again, but of course I now know that we won't. Her death is nothing like the tragedy of her sister's and my other friend's - 74 isn't a bad age. But we shared a lot of adventures in our youth - for example, we travelled round Canada and the USA on Greyhound buses for a calendar month in 1970 - and now we'll never again have chats and giggles about our journey. 

Anyway, I've done a lot of gardening this week, planting things and digging out bits of plants that had got too big and so on. There's nothing like gardening to make one look forward. The weather's been beautiful too, which always raises the spirits. Here's to life! 

 

Boring post about flowers

Well, it's all about the flowers at this time of year. My own garden (it's Mr L's too, technically, but he'd probably just have grass. Or not even that) needed a lot of attention - all the bulb leftovers had to be removed, or not if they were still green; and the weeds engendered by all that rain followed by quite a lot of sun had to be discouraged; and also all the many, many pots that I plant up at this time of year had to be filled. Why is my smallish garden so labour-intensive? Well, of course because I made it so, when I was in my forties and fifties. And I like looking at it when it's finished, although of course it's a garden and is never finished. I do actually enjoy a bit of gentle weeding. But I'm definitely getting a bit old and achey. Still, use it or lose it, or so I tell myself. 

I saw one of those things on Facebook the other day. It featured a scientist walking along the road, saying that extensive research has shown that there are five words which, if you say to yourself, will improve your mood - whatever that mood is at the time. So of course I listened to the end, and it turned out that these words were, "These are the good times". Would that improve your mood? It surely means, "This is as good as it's going to get". Which, when you're nearly 74, isn't that encouraging. No doubt it's true, but what's the point of thinking that way? I mean, things are fine. But I'd prefer to be 24. Even at 24, I don't think I'd like to be told that that was the best time. It was good, though it was also extremely stressful at times, being a high school teacher in quite a tough school. But there were better things to come, like for example all our lovely babies and grandbabies, not to say a long career of teaching in further education - which had its difficulties, but not nearly so many. 

Anyway, back to the flowers. It's a lovely time of year, with many alliums

and irises

and more irises

and another,

and look at this thalictrum - I only bought it last year and it's wonderful - it's been blooming for weeks. I do have another, much less interesting variety of thalictrum and over the 35 years we've been in this house it's become a thug and is everywhere. However, I won't be here in another 35 years so if the big pink one has spread everywhere by then ... hey ho. 

Oh, another iris. 

Saughton Park, quite near us, is lovely at this time of year. 

It's very allium-ish.

and lupiny

Here are my lupins. 

And then, in the Botanics, lots of lovely mecanopsis. 

So. Flowers. Very cheering. 

I must not start another quilt till I've got back to the archives. And must not die till I've made some decisions about what to keep, and have actually disposed of some of it. My parents both had interesting lives, much more varied and worthy of note than mine (school, university, three different teaching jobs, retirement). So the archives are mainly theirs, which makes it difficult. And then also of course... we have too many photos. Haven't we all?