Spring might finally be coming to the Midlife Garden.  Despite the continuing cold, wet, windy weather, there are signs of new life. The seedlings are bursting out of the storage boxes in the greenhouse so I will have to hold them back in case of frost, and in the borders, the plum trees and Amelanchier are in blossom and the apple is just coming on too. The sound of chiffchaffs and blackcaps has joined the symphony of birdsong.  It is a time of renewal and is a reminder of how the garden literally keeps me grounded and in step with the natural order.

Last week Mrs B and I attended the memorial service for Roy, one of our teachers at school. He was 94 and was, in the parlance of present-day pupils, a “legend”, having taught at the school for nearly three decades.  He was a PE teacher and I remember him as a wily basketball coach, turning us into the best in the county; but he also taught maths. Even now, whenever I (frequently) cover a maths lesson I will think of Roy, of how he helped me understand and succeed in the subject, and whether I am explaining quadratic equations, surds, or simple multiplication, I can hear his voice saying “hence, thus and therefore…” before supplying the answer.

The memorial service was the celebration of a life well-lived, selfessly and often in the service of others, although it was tinged with sadness as Roy had latterly been the victim of Alzheimer’s. The church was packed with men and women of a certain age (somewhere in the 50s – 70s bracket) and there were awkward sideways glances and embarrassed smiles as we tried to second guess if we were looking into the ageing eyes of a former school chum. We should have worn name badges like a proper school reunion, but that would have missed the point of why we were there.

These days I view death as part of life. When someone passes, we grow our life around our grief, and learn to negotiate a new relationship with the deceased. The garden reminds us to get on with life and to accommodate death, even if we do not entirely accept it. Spring, with its blossom, new seedlings, and warming sunshine is the time to celebrate new life, building on, and remembering, the past lives that got us here.

Amellanchier

Brunnera

Cornus