Equinoctial thoughts

September 22, 2014

From the North Pole to the South Pole, at this time of year darkness and light fall equally across the whole of the planet. As well, even though different amounts of light and dark are experienced in winter and summer, averaged throughout the year, there is an equal measure of each. This should tell us something.

It is this way in our lives as well. In our hearts the ups and downs, the downs and ups occupy equal territory. Over a lifetime, they should pretty much balance out.


One day looks promising and full of beauty.

The next day we awake to our dreams shredded of their blossoms in a single night.


Yes, I wept. Such tender beauty vanished in the dark by rampaging possums before reaching full fruit bearing potential.

When this tree and three others were planted out a week earlier, I “had” taken pains to provide what I thought was sufficient protection. But obviously, the possum’s ability to leap was higher than I had anticipated.

Frustrated? Yes.

Angry? A little.

Defeated? No.

Just wise enough to know that what happened was all in the mix of things and that I would not remain disheartened for too long.


Over the weekend I re-built the somewhat goofy looking possum barrier on this very sad looking crab apple tree and then reinforced three other trees where the possum’s footsteps told of exploratory behaviour. It took all day, but in the end, as ridiculous as the trees looked, I felt good inside. Happy even. I had done my best.

“Try jumping this high, Mr. Possum”, I said to myself as I lay down my tools and looked out across the gathering beauty of the land and sea, content to be mellow whilst riding the highs and lows of existence.


As with the crab apple tree, out of the wreckage of the picnic table smashed a few weeks ago by a falling tree, there now stands the new table. Firewood cut from the fallen tree will warm the house in winter. The old table will make fine kindling.

We make of the dark days what we will.


And this morning I saw from the tip — of a previously denuded twig — red blushes determined to push forth announcing their rightful place in the world.

May we all find hope in this simple act.

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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

Joanne Toft September 23, 2014 at 11:33 am

Love your struggle with the spring blooms while I am in Minnesota struggling with squirrels who think all the tomatoes were grown for them! Darn Critters!

John Caddy September 22, 2014 at 10:56 pm

Brava to the crab, Peter. Possums do not rule Windgrove. Have a finely balanced equinox.

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