7 April 2014 - And the marigolds look lovely today

الرحمن الرحیم بسم الله

In the name of Allah, the Lord of mercy, the Giver of mercy.

 

7 April 2014 at about 4.45 am

I awake to the sound of water and sleepy voices reciting back lessons of the Qur’an. I listen for wind but the air is still and now and then a car passes. I decide to have a look at pictures taken so I switch on the computer and start tapping out words instead. I break to greet, pray and give thanks and a warm cup of Chai tea…

The short holiday has been filled with meetings in the garden; quality time with our children at home;  communicating with those abroad; developing materials for a new course; a day shared with the IPSA youth and steady planting progress-so the blog had to wait for a while. The IPSA students of Enrichment gathered here during the week for breakfast, braai-ing, making salads and learning about organic gardening or at least the potential of spaces.  Some took walks around the garden; some enjoyed Abu's pics of Madiba in the studio; some were busy with archery and a few beautiful voices rendered Nasheed.

I reflect on yesterday’s work and I am thankful to Allah SWT for health and strength. Pulling a very heavy 50 metre hose around to keep wet the soil is no joke. So my mind is playing events of the previous day backwards.

At about 9.00 last night.

There is a beautiful pallid slice of the moon hanging in the midnight blue sky. Abu and I are still busy transplanting strawberry plants right in the front side of the garden. Our son is connecting an outside light or we’d be fumbling in the dark. 90 plants so far and there are still loads to go. We need to thin out the plants because the runners are unable to take root – the plants have grown too dense. As I gently but firmly press the plants into the soil, I make duah and think about those who have left for Makkah and are busy circumambulating the tranquil Ka’bah.

Feeling quite satisfied, with a full days’ work I go into the house to put on the kettle when I realise that I missed a call by a few moments. So there I am standing, phone in hand, dialing 121. A monotonous woman’s voice is directing me to press 1 and then 1. It’s Doctor Ridwaan whom we met in December. An elegant yet humble young man brought by his fiancé Rukayat for us to meet- immediate rapport, common insights, warm conversation during a meal shared and an exchange of gifts. He is standing at the Ka’bah at that moment that I am planting strawberries, thinking about us, making duah for us, for the ummah, for friends and family. How amazing is that. And I hope that my ameens are accepted and that Allah invites us back.

About 2 o’clock in the afternoon

first tomatoes

Someone lays the table with white table cloth, stacks plates and serviettes and the old silver ice bucket filled with cutlery is brought out. My son is busy working with a mould for making bow handles while Abu is carving the meat and placing it on a serving platter. I feel lazy and recline on the couch but I am hungry and the aromas from the kitchen are tantalsing, so I help with dishing up. My daughter is making a salad but the lettuce is far too tiny to pick so she takes some basil, cherry tomato and blocks of cucumber and feta and covers it with olive oil and herbs.

We sit down to lunch and contemplate what to do when the day cools off a bit- it’s far too hot to work in the garden. We chop up some lemon grass to make ice tea and start to feel sleepy.

About 10 am

A close friend has come to visit and to collect forms for study. Sometimes the relaxing laid-back atmosphere in the backyard, warm tea and koeksisters can make one forget about other tasks, feeding and cleaning the house. As she leaves, there is a scramble by everyone to water the garden, making beds, a quick sweep of the rooms. Thank goodness I took out a leg of lamb the night before to defrost. I rinse and rub it with sea salt and ground pepper, stuff it with a bouquet of herbs from the garden and garlic while I warm a huge pot with a dash of olive oil. I scorch the rings of 3 large onions and the scorch and seal the leg until a rich brown and then turn it down to simmer. In the meantime I peel prepare potatoes, sweet potatoes and carrots and make some sweet saffron rice. And out to the garden again.

So the orange tree is put to barrel, watered and mulched and standing within sight as I look out of my bedroom window, (shukran to the Fields family). I found some pretty flower seeds and scatter them in places that I forget purposefully. I place lavender plants all over to attract the honey bees. Abu is forced to extend the strawberry patch as runners of new plants make their way into cracks and tall grass. The flax seeds that I scattered last week have started to green; small tomatoes make their appearance on bushes and a few beautiful caterpillars are munching the fig leaves. I am torn between removing them and waiting to see what kind of butterflies will emerge. I cannot wait for the veg final patches to be complete, so I plant the celery into spaces cleared out in the flowerbox.

We have run out of compost, having used nearly 4 cubes so far and decide to make our own. Abu and Basil have spent all of yesterday loading stable manure and making a huge pile against the vibracrete wall. Tomorrow it will be layered with straw, kitchen and garden waste in a boxed in corner; watered and allowed breathe. It will with Allah’s help turn into sweet compost as everything breaks down and we can dig it into soil and mulch around plants and trees.

This first autumn rains invite us to plant bulbs for the winter such as daffodils, ranunculi, 


Bougainvillea has blooms

my favourite sweet smelling freesias and the like. So no lovely daffodils that look lovely today yet but preparation of beds for all kinds of corms and bulbs wait for the weather to cool off a bit more. I have to exercise some patience. The bougainvillea is so content with its new station that it beautiful pink flowers appear.

 I will wait for May to plant tulips and have decided to plant it in containers. I did not know that tulips were actually growing wild in fields back in the day, some thousand years ago in Turkey from which it originates and not from Amsterdam. Cultivated tulips were celebrated in Turkish gardens as early as the 1500s. By law the sale of tulip bulbs were constricted to the capital.

It’s about 7.00 and the young ones are getting ready for school, they are slicing yesterday’s lamb for sandwiches. I feel a bit tired say salaams and I am curling up in bed again.

Till tomorrow or later or whenever.

 Plant food and don’t forget to mulch.

Yasmine

 



Front before

 And in progress