9 May 2026

 Planting happened today. Back breaking but so satisfying.

The portulaca and colourful leafy things went into filling up Charlie's pot - a small remembrance of my sweet boy - and of my Lucky boy too, who fills me with such sadness remembering how I had to give him away that it's difficult to think, let alone write, about. 

Watering the new planting in their pot here -

The white impatiens and red fuchsias went into troughs on the wooden bench overlooking the pool. They remind me strongly of my various Cape Town gardens, where impatiens flowered year-round, bringing memories of the pleasure of watering barefoot in the early evenings when the worst heat of the sun was over, listening to the hadedas. 

Now that I'm thinking about how plants seem to embody significant memories, I'd say my main association with the succulents is my mother, who had many in her all-indigenous garden in Cape Town.

I regret now having bought so few wee succs, which went on the deck with stones for company.

Il faut cultiver notre jardin said Voltaire's 'old Turk'. Voltaire had been studying Islam apparently, and understood the importance of gardens in Islamic theology.

I like this interpretation of his words that I read today, that in a heartbreaking world it 'captures the best possible attitude to pain, and the wisest orientation of a weary mind towards what remains hopeful and good.'