A well established garden is a pleasure. I thoroughly enjoy wandering around checking on the plants, picking off dead leaves, admiring the lush growth, the pretty rosebuds, getting stupidly excited about a tomato or patti-pan bursting forth in my veggie patch. Gardens are places for contemplation and, I believe, reflect the state of mind of the gardener. Bird song and quiet in the late afternoon makes me happy. I often sit at my outside table sipping a chilled glass of wine and watch as the last rays of sunlight turn to dusky twilight. The bats suddenly appear swooping and swishing, catching insects. The circle of life is very much apparent if one just takes the time to notice. Birds nest, lizards bask, spiders spin, butterflies burst forth after their caterpillars have decimated leaves. I do not believe in using anything that purposefully kills so I share my garden with all manner of species. Sometimes, because we are human, we feel the need to do away with things in our gardens that no longer serve a purpose or are encroaching on our property. It has finally come to pass that the Eugenia tree has spread its roots under the house. It is almost seven metres tall, a restaurant for the baboons who love its pink berries and is home to all manner of bird life. The decision was made to fell it a few months ago, but it was reprieved because our little black cat needed it to escape to the roof. Now that the cat has moved out, its death knell tolled. I chose a tree feller carefully, someone who would understand that a tree for me is not just a tree. The tree feller promised to carefully put any nests he found in another tree. Today is the day. I went out at dawn to say thank you and goodbye to the tree. When I went to the bank early to draw the money to pay for the job I suddenly realised how sad I was at this prospect. That tree has grown with us as a family. As is the way of the universe, I met a lovely lady in the queue and found myself telling her about the tree. She understood and assured me the tree would understand. I drove home. The tree feller arrived and now as I type, I can hear the chainsaws. I cannot bear to look. I mourn this end of life and it hurts, but that is the nature of me and I couldn't do it any other way.
Friday, 30 January 2015
Goodbye tree.
A well established garden is a pleasure. I thoroughly enjoy wandering around checking on the plants, picking off dead leaves, admiring the lush growth, the pretty rosebuds, getting stupidly excited about a tomato or patti-pan bursting forth in my veggie patch. Gardens are places for contemplation and, I believe, reflect the state of mind of the gardener. Bird song and quiet in the late afternoon makes me happy. I often sit at my outside table sipping a chilled glass of wine and watch as the last rays of sunlight turn to dusky twilight. The bats suddenly appear swooping and swishing, catching insects. The circle of life is very much apparent if one just takes the time to notice. Birds nest, lizards bask, spiders spin, butterflies burst forth after their caterpillars have decimated leaves. I do not believe in using anything that purposefully kills so I share my garden with all manner of species. Sometimes, because we are human, we feel the need to do away with things in our gardens that no longer serve a purpose or are encroaching on our property. It has finally come to pass that the Eugenia tree has spread its roots under the house. It is almost seven metres tall, a restaurant for the baboons who love its pink berries and is home to all manner of bird life. The decision was made to fell it a few months ago, but it was reprieved because our little black cat needed it to escape to the roof. Now that the cat has moved out, its death knell tolled. I chose a tree feller carefully, someone who would understand that a tree for me is not just a tree. The tree feller promised to carefully put any nests he found in another tree. Today is the day. I went out at dawn to say thank you and goodbye to the tree. When I went to the bank early to draw the money to pay for the job I suddenly realised how sad I was at this prospect. That tree has grown with us as a family. As is the way of the universe, I met a lovely lady in the queue and found myself telling her about the tree. She understood and assured me the tree would understand. I drove home. The tree feller arrived and now as I type, I can hear the chainsaws. I cannot bear to look. I mourn this end of life and it hurts, but that is the nature of me and I couldn't do it any other way.
Saturday, 17 January 2015
Ode to maggots.
Fearless I and often called
to capture, not kill, creeping creaturesand not one of them did I abhor
until I first saw maggots.
In dark, dirty places bred by flies
heat-hatched in rotten flesh.
The wriggling mass once realised
filled me with pure revulsion.
They spilled off the bag onto the floor
and moved with speed toward my feet
with grotesqueness only they can have
pus-white, rice-like, fat on meat.
Carrion eaters, coffin companions
putrefaction's little messengers
showing me in their slimy minions
my fear of my mortality.
I gasped in fear felt in my gut
and leapt about my feet up high
imagining maggots on my body
quelling panic, the urge to cry.
I wished they'd simply go away
my bravery had been defaced.
The urge to kill them, maim, destroy
overcame my sense of reason.
I steeled myself to act against them
exterminate the vile, vile things.
All in vain, I could not face them
my nemesis found, my feet grew wings.
Mel Gouws 14/02/2001
Saturday, 10 January 2015
Thoughts on freedom of speech.
The definition of freedom of speech has become a world wide debate in the wake of the tragic events in France. It is supposedly a human right, yet how free can our speech or expression truly be? Freedom of speech, if taken literally, means having the right to say exactly what we feel without censorship or sensitivity to the opinions of others without consequences. Most people naturally censor their opinions depending on the forum they are presenting to. 'Freedom of speech' is shouted to the hilltops, but how free should our speech really be? If I knowingly insult another with my opinion of them, they should be free to insult me in retaliation. Please note, insult in retaliation, not murder. This I should accept if I wish to take the phrase 'freedom of speech' literally. If I unknowingly insult somebody and I am alerted to this fact I should apologise. Simple, but seldom practised and possibly a naive assumption. Words or artistic expression are in the eye of the beholder and the aspect I find difficult to get my head around is the diverse, conflicting views that people hold about the same topic. I may think that as long as I feel my speech harms none, I should be allowed to air my views, but what about the individual who disagrees with the subject I am airing? The adage "think before you speak" applies to my writing because as we all know, once the commentary is out, it cannot be easily retracted. I try to be as sensitive as possible, but someone, somewhere will probably be offended. So, yes I do self-censor to an extent. I struggle to understand why people, aka trolls, hiding behind computer screens on various social media sites have the need to stir things up. Racist and religious slurs, vitriolic outbursts and insulting language to list some of the upsetting things I have seen online. Just my opinion you understand. My personal rule is never to be drawn into the fray although sometimes I become so angry, I admit to having been tempted to comment. The problem is that, as the world has witnessed, that anger became a blood bath, a fatal retribution to what some perceived as satirical. If there was to be such a thing as true freedom of speech, it has to work for all, but as we know, deeply ingrained perspectives cannot be changed. As intelligent, benevolent beings simply wanting peace on this planet, I think we should consider the fact that free speech or no-holds barred expression has suddenly become a honed, double-edged sword. A Damoclesian sword which will cause even the most outspoken to think twice and words to be almost always carefully coached to protect the feelings and lives of others. A sad ending to the saying "the pen is mightier than the sword." So, my humble, reluctant conclusion is this. Raw, uncut freedom of speech in this turbulent world of ours can in fact no longer safely exist.
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