Iridescent Eyes

9th June 2011 Thursday

We leave the house at 7.30 this morning in car convoy - my husband following me to the garage of the lovely mechanic who fixed my brakes last time my car needed some TLC. I can’t remember the exact address and we wander around the industrial estate for a while till it all comes back to me. We leave my husband’s car and instead of going straight home I say, let’s have breakfast in town and go to the farmers’ market.

Some of the stall holders are still unpacking their wares. We bump into a dear friend who I always look out for as she’s usually there behind a table laden with gorgeous breads and cakes. At the plant stall she shows us an exquisite lily - white, pink trimmed and waxy and I’m drawn to a rose bush with one one opening bud - deep cherry red in the centre, the petals fading from blush to white at their edges.

We buy eggs and broccoli and radishes. But the scent of the rose bush stays in my mind. We walk past the stall again.

‘I’ll buy it for you,’ says my husband.

I want to know its name.

‘It’s called Nostalgia,’ says the woman who owns the stall. ‘It’s a hybrid tea rose. The grower sprays it with “Roseclear”, the only thing that works, because in the South West roses are prone to black spot, mildew and aphids.’

My husband carries it back to the car and I think about where to plant it in the garden. I wonder if it will survive if I don’t spray it - which I don’t want to do as we never use chemicals on our plants. I ponder on the price of beauty while we share breakfast - coffee and a warm cheese straw for me and a raspberry and white chocolate muffin for him.

Much, much later at the end of my day, we sit in a big circle of fifteen lovely people in the house of dear friends where the air always resonates with love. I let their blessings and the haunting sound of sitar and Indian voices stream through me. Just before we leave I sit with our friend from the market this morning. She says, ‘I have something for you,‘ and she gives me a small peacock feather, shimmering lime green fronds, iridescent turquoise eye. I know she has been reading my blog. She says I remind her of the colours of a peacock and my writing is beautiful.

She also says, ‘I don’t know why you have been given this circumstance. Maybe all you can do is to enjoy and accept the bright moments, the iridescent beauty of them.’

This is one of those dawning moments. So many people have said such astonishingly wonderful and encouraging words to me about this blog that because of them and their loving hearts I am beginning to write myself into view. Without spraying away the mildew.

How can I not reflect back all their love when I have so many iridescent eyes in the shining fan of my open peacock tail - which is also theirs?