An Ill Wind …

… blows nobody any good.

Or does it? Like many people, the wind is my least favourite weather ‘character’. And we seem to have had our share of windy days lately. It blows my gingers into disarray and blasts the flowers off my orchids before they’re spent.

IMG_3380

Soft cane dendrobium and pink ginger flowers

Things could be worse. And they were for a while.

A silly accident (aren’t all accidents silly, shouldn’t-have-happened events?) has put me into a moon-boot for six weeks with a broken foot. There were crutches involved as well but I considered those more dangerous than my usual ‘go-to crutches’ (coffee and chocolate), so I dispensed with the former.

Instead, I have resolved to stay off my feet as much as possible. The thought of doing this conjured up visions of long hours reading, writing, podcasts and maybe some movies. Ahh, bliss.

But the reality of accomplishing a sit-down existence was a somewhat different proposition. I’m not a sitting sort of person, but didn’t realise how much I darted hither and yon until now. And I cite getting up mid-paragraph to attend to the washing, get a coffee, or to go out into my garden to check on said wind damage, as examples.

The result of this enforced confinement has meant no going out or walking around my neighbourhood to get inspiration for my posts. No photos to speak of either.

Proverbs like the one of my title, are notoriously fluid and mutable. Their meanings can shift and morph over time as this one demonstrates. Originally thought to have a negative meaning: no-one would benefit from an ill wind, later was subverted to mean the opposite: ‘a wind that didn’t provide benefit to someone would be a bad and unusual one indeed.’ (ref).

I think I prefer this last interpretation.

So the good news is I spent a week with family, who lovingly fed and nurtured me. I was blessed with the solicitous support of other peripatetic family and friends. Time spent with ‘grandies’ does wonders for the spirit, not to speak of the TLC and assistance with the many-strapped boot. Perhaps this was just what I needed.

 

The pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails.

William Arthur Ward

 

How interesting that the featured image reminds me of Janus: ‘In ancient Roman religion and myth, Janus (/ˈdʒeɪnəs/; Latin: Iānus, pronounced [ˈjaː.nus]) is the god of beginnings, gates, transitions, time, duality, doorways, passages, and endings. He is usually depicted as having two faces, since he looks to the future and to the past.’ (ref).

 

 

l

l

l

 

 

 

61 responses to “An Ill Wind …

  1. We’ve been having our customary equinoctial gales here. Ill winds indeed, but I was delighted to see that this year the clematis managed to hold onto its flowers. Often, the flowers have no sooner appeared than their petals are scattered.

    Liked by 3 people

      • I think you have adjusted your sails, and will be extra appreciative of your fully functioning foot before long. But six weeks can seem very long. Lucky you have a philosophical nature!

        Liked by 2 people

      • I can never be stoical about the loss of my clematis flowers. Clematis likes cold feet and a hot head, so I planted it against the fence in the coldest, shadiest, corner of the garden. It lost no time in leaping up to reach the sun, and transforms that corner – on the rare occasions when it manages to keep its petals.

        Liked by 2 people

  2. Ouch! Sitting for six weeks sounds bliss, until you really think about it. I too have an injured foot – I keep walking on it so probably not helping it to heal, but now my grandies have returned to Australia I might get a chance to put my feet up! As for the ill wind, we have those too! Virginia creeper turned a beautiful shade of red and now lays on the floor…
    Wishing you a rapid recovery 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Oh dear, I’m sorry about your foot. I hope it heals soon.
    The ‘ginger’ flowers – is that a ginger plant as in the spice ginger, or something else?

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Oh, no! Not a moon boot! You must adjust your sails and take this as a sign to work on your book. When I broke a bone in my ankle four years ago, I, too, was in a boot. And I sat and wrote the ZuZu Series. This may not be such an ill wind after all, and being doted upon by your family is the best of all possible worlds. Now, I must go back and read the refs.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I’m a little late reading this post Robyn so I hope your foot is well and truly on the mend and that you’re being well looked after. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll have adjusted your sails and be making the best of the situation. Sending good wishes your way.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Hi Robyn, just now catching up. I’ve been travelling (Alaska cruise, then grandchildcare in L.A. ), and so filled with happy images and memorable conversations that I almost lost touch with this other world, where I can listen in and make contact and be filled without leaving my living room. I had read the aroma post before leaving, but somehow forgot to tell you about my own I sensitivity in that area. Or maybe I didn’t want to admit that ever since, as a child, attending a wake, viewing, or whatever they call it now–ever since that experience of overpowering funereal bouquets, I have always steered clear of formal gardens in full flower because they immediately conjure unpleasant thoughts of death. I have learned to look closely at the visual beauty and uniqueness of flowers, but I don’t get too close. About your moon boot, I had similar experience, this time as a 13-yr old. On crutches for 2 months, but the benefit was that I learned to enjoy reading. Also I got a lot of attention. At my age now, it would be a different story, as I can tell it is for you. Finally, your post about green made me think of my dear lost friend Charlie, an artist and teacher. He told me once that his major theme in class activities was often a variation of his belief that “If you want to learn to paint, study the color green.” I’ve been doing that, though not in order to paint — mostly in order to live more fully. Also your frog reference brought back a long-ago newspaper cartoon by one of our most beloved artists (whose name is on the tip . . ) about a group of frogs, dressed like, and playing instruments of, blues musicians . They were singing ingredients “I’ve got the greens …” Here’s hoping your blues are turning verdant green very soon!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.