And nature just carries on…
Out here in Lescure’s countryside, lockdown has been a gentler experience than in the cities. Having to stay put has made us see nature anew. Witnessing its unfolding. Steady. With purpose. Without haste. We’ve seen the snow of the last bit of winter melt into the early signs of spring, now unfurling into a lush green and a sea of white blooms.
The estate is filled with fragrance. The first roses naturally. There’s Philadelphus mock orange next to the chapel and in the woods. Cascades of white petaled flowers with sweet-scented yellow stems. And Robinia pseudoacacia! Tall trees with wisteria-like flowers perfuming the chateau terrace with a heady scent resembling orange blossom. And of course, the sweet-sour tang of floaty elderflowers everywhere.
Lockdown has begun to ease and some ambient noise is back – a sports plane, the distant rumble of a motor bike, announcing something. I’m not sure what, but it’s unsettling and it ties my stomach in knots. Yet all the blooms are soft and white, as if to bring me tenderness as I grief over the loss of silence. As if to bring me peace of mind for new beginnings, when a wave of worry about the world spills over me.
I feel compelled to fill the house with these appeasing flowers: in bouquets everywhere and as aromatic additions to our cooking. Thomas whips up some flour, water, beer and salt for frying the robinia clusters into sweet fritters. And I make cordial to try my hand at elderflower broad bean toasts. How comforting that nature always knows what to do and so easily provides abundance and beauty every day. Here’s to moving forward into uncharted territory. Softly, with grace and a strong heart.