All week I’ve been marvelling at my happy, cheery little friend that has sprung up in a rather grim-looking black pot on the backstep. Maybe I shouldn’t be that surprised, because I actually planted the thing – a geranium – over summer. But still each morning, as I peg my bath towel on the Hill’s Hoist out the back, I look down and get a happy, cheery little vibe from my happy, cheery little friend in the grim-looking pot. And pink isn’t even my favourite colour; actually I’m not a fan of the colour pink in the slightest.
But still, there she is, looking so happy and cheery.
Perhaps it’s because in the part of Australia where I live we’re coming to the tail-end of one of the hottest summers on record. Or was it years? Or decades? I can’t recall – all this talk about the world falling apart weatherwise gets a bit mixed up after a while.
Or is it because, speaking of weather, no one seems to have the definitive answer on climate change – is it fact or fiction? – and what we should do about it – tax polluters or plant more trees?
Or maybe I’m cheered up by my happy, cheery little friend because she comes from my aunt’s place, a farm a couple of hours drive west of here, couriered to me by my brother as a cutting in a plastic shopping bag.
Or it might be because ten years ago some bastard poisoned parts of my front garden and all this time later I still can’t get things to grow there (one day I’ll talk about this, perhaps even here on this humble little blog-shaped contraption), so it’s just nice to see a happy, cheery little plant doing so well.
Or it might be because, unknown to me, I just need a little cheering up this week. Could it be this? It could be, you know. Perhaps, perhaps.
What I do know for certain is that I’ve now taken a snap of my happy, cheery little friend and put her up here for all to see.
Isn’t she pretty?
To celebrate her fame I’ve just put on repeat on the stereo Beirut’s ‘The Gulag Orkestar’ (off the gorgeous 2006 album of the same name). Not because it’s the cheeriest song in the world, in fact it sounds like a stack of men with banged-up brass instruments getting plastered on cheap vodka because their wives have run off with a herd of donkeys. Or they just like getting drunk on cheap vodka. Either way, Beirut’s music is music that makes me smile.
More to the point, I think my happy, cheery little friend is out on her back step right now swaying this way and that because she loves this music too. Or she’s remembering what the Russian poet Osip Mandelstam once wrote: ‘how poor is the language of happines!’ So she’s swaying this way and that.
Yes, how poor is the language of happiness.
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February 4, 2010 at 9:16+00:00Feb
isaddictedtothemusic
That is a nice job o the geranium. I used to work as a gardener’s assistant, in a garden centre, and I saw the frailty of geraniums as something to be remembered. Also, is that Beirut record worth investigating? I really loved ‘Postcards from Italy’, but never looked past it much.
February 4, 2010 at 9:16+00:00Feb
Nigel Featherstone
Hi Addicted (can I call you that?), thanks for dropping by. Yes, geraniums are frail little creatures but also amazingly stoic – around these parts they’re often the last plant standing in the really old country gardens. Now I’ve written that, doesn’t it sound La-De-Da! On Beirut, yes, their first album is worth listening to – it’s a little more rough-sounding than more recent records, but it’s full of warmth. So do check it out if it’s available where you are. Cheers, Nigel
February 5, 2010 at 9:16+00:00Feb
isaddictedtothemusic
‘Addicted’ sounds fine!
February 4, 2010 at 9:16+00:00Feb
Sarcastic Bastard
She’s lovely. Truly.
I live in Ohio, and we have about a 6-inch snowfall headed our way. I wish I could come live in Australia during our winter. I’d take hot any day.
Sending love and cheer, SB.
February 4, 2010 at 9:16+00:00Feb
Nigel Featherstone
Hi SB, you know maybe we could swap, because I’m a huge fan of snow, probably because the most we get of the stuff in Canberra is a bit of a dusting on the nearby hills once in a while. Quite frankly I’d love to live in a city that got snowed in every winter. Though maybe I’d last only one winter. The next time it’s really hot, which will be next week, I’ll think of Ohio! Thanks for visiting again. Cheers, Nigel
February 15, 2010 at 9:16+00:00Feb
Ms. Moon
Sometimes it is the tiniest sprout of color which fills our souls.
I love your little geranium.
February 15, 2010 at 9:16+00:00Feb
Nigel
Hi Ms Moon, thanks for visiting and commenting. Sometimes there’s nothing better than ‘the tinest sprout of colour’!