There's a magnolia tree in my backyard, it's tucked around a corner that's not visible from the inside, hidden away near the shed and my little vege patch.
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I've lived here for about 16 years now and each and every year, about this time, I'll head out in the backyard and be taken aback by how it's flowered without me noticing.
Its beautiful flowers emerging from the little buds, some already in full bloom. When did that happen?
In the middle of winter I only notice that the tree has grown too close to the house, that it's rubbed up against and damaged the gutter, that it really is too big for the space where it was planted in the garden, but how are you meant to know how things will grow and change over the course of the years? (And yes, I'm being metaphorical, of course I should have done my horticultural research before planting.)
But every year, most often on those early September days when the damp has lifted from the air, the sky is blue, and the wind is blowing, and I'm in the backyard hanging out sheets and towels, that tree will remind me how often you need to go looking for the beauty in things.
That if I turn around from lamenting the state of the pittosporum hedge that runs along the back fence, dying in patches, flourishing in others, I'll see that tree and be reminded that there is beauty in all sorts of things if only you notice.
And that's why I love spring. It's a reminder that no matter how bleak and dark your proverbial winter has been, everything is entitled to a fresh start. I suppose that's what the idea of a spring clean is all about. If we take the time to sort our homes, our lives, we can remove all the dust that has settled and move on.
Which is why I found myself on my knees last week. I decided to conquer those damn skirting boards. Armed with an old cloth nappy - (hint to new parents, keep a couple of these once your kids have long outgrown them, handy for all sorts of things) - one corner dampened, working my way methodically through the house. It was kind of disgusting really how much grime had collected over the years. But there was a start and a finish. Job done.
If we take the time to sort our homes, our lives, we can remove all the dust that has settled and move on.
The other job I got done was cleaning out the pantry, to some extent, and the fridge, focusing on bottles and sauces with long-past expiration dates. I may have been best before 2010 but that jar of caramelised onions wasn't. One goal I've been meaning to achieve for many springs now is a complete pantry overhaul. Who knows what is lurking. Google "pantry challenge" and you'll get the idea. Take a complete inventory of what's in there, plan meals, don't buy food. Tuna, pasta, dinner.
Perhaps there's something of the idea of finding beauty, a delicious meal in this case, in those ordinary cans and containers.
It's kind of fitting that today is also Father's Day, the first day of spring. Another one without my old man, I miss him daily. When I'm in my darkest moments I ask myself if I'm living the life he would have wanted for me. I know I'm not, and I want to be better for him.
I want to dust off the cobwebs and rearrange the shelves of my life and just get it sorted. That's what he would have wanted. And what I want is just a little change. More organised, less hassle, more joy, less dark moments.
The goal then is to find the beauty in all the small things.
Flowering trees, blue skies, the feel of crisp sheets on a night that's still a little crisp itself. A phone call from a friend, a good book, a good night's sleep. In meals shared, in long walks, in moments spent with the kids, in sleep-ins, warm baths, and flowering trees that deserve to be seen from every window in the house.