Two days of relentless gales had flattened my newly flowering daffodils.
I rescued what I could and bought the flowers inside to enjoy.
I see today that the remaining leaves and damaged flowers have almost returned to their previous height. Winter is very much with us still despite these early spring flowers showing a brave face to remind us of things yet to come.
After relentless gales from the northwest we were blessed today with a cool, gentle southerly wind change. That brought us the astounding sound of silence from the noise of the winds, stillness to be outdoors and enjoy it, and warmth from the sunshine.
Jazz made the best of the conditions as he stretched to soak up the prevailing goodness.
It is official. Even the scientists confirm my suspicions. It has been a very windy spring and while we are used to that here in windy Wellington, many of the gales have been much stronger than the usual blustery conditions we live with.
Almost without fail there have been wind warnings forecasting gusts of up to 140kms per hour. Fortunately my particularly patch on earth has a degree of shelter from these northwesterlies. But we have sustained damage, most recently to an old television aerial.
You can see the trees in the tall tree part of our garden taking a buffeting. The fresh leaves of the birch trees are already looking bedraggled and bent in response to the prevailing bluster.
The Viburnum “pom poms” are burnt and brown.
Those are the ones that have survived on the trees. So many have been stripped. In past springs they looked like this.
The rock roses have proved to be hardy and flourishing bushes but the relentless wind sees the crepey flowers brown and shrivel.
And then there are the birds who must be exhausted battling through the endless gusts and the strength of the wind. Look at these two blackbird fledglings sheltering in a sunny and calm part of the garden this afternoon, resting while the parents are off foraging.
Blackbird fledgling resting to the right of the green tray.
As I went outdoors the parent bird flew near me and waited hopefully in the Magnolia tree.
I had nothing to offer him this time but I have been tossing scraps and crumbs out in greater quantities to help the birds survive.
Other parts of the country have been hard hit again today and we are hoping that the winds will abate tomorrow as predicted.
The remarkable thing about waking up this morning is the sound of silence. Well not total silence because the birds are singing and traffic is passing the house BUT there are no gale force north westerlies buffeting the house and roaring in the trees. The noise of the wind yesterday seemed all encompassing as it gusted and blustered at every door and window.
Despite being battered by many gale force winds this leaf is still on the tree as I type this post.
I’ve been considering possible metaphors around this leaf and a range come to my mind:
Do we cling on to something long after we should have let it go?
Do we hold on to beliefs or behaviours that no longer serve us?
Do we have utter determination in the face of great opposition and stand firm?
Do we like to have the final say, be the star of the finale?
Is life just puzzling and full of quirks?
Do we show great strength and grit in circumstances that are threatening and difficult?
Are we pioneers, forging new ways that have never been achieved before?
When conditions around us are inhospitable and life diminishing and we feel frail, drained, worn can we find inner strength, in reserves deep within us?
What does this last leaf offer you as a metaphor?
And another really amazing aspect contained in this photo is the evidence of next spring’s bubs, already formed, as the last leaf hangs, speaking of hope.