2021 appears to have begun with another mad dash.
Tomorrow is Australia Day, which means being in the East End Gallery, due to the public holiday.
Today has been thoroughly low-key, mostly spent rather unexpectedly in our courtyards. I had grand plans of catching up on the neverending housework, but instead, I plonked my hat on my head and tackled a tad of external tidying up. I moved pots and swept up the debris. A few spiders that had made homes in unfortunate places were dispatched. Scraggly plants were given a makeover and new potting mix. A touch of rearrangement and the addition of a metal stand for a tumbling succulent freed some space and created the illusion of a lush and colourful garden bed in the northeastern corner. Michael, ever the perfectionist, flitted around our spaces giving considered and stylish trims with his favourite snips. Both of us also enjoyed nanna naps to recharge our batteries. In the cool of the late afternoon, we sat in our main courtyard and congratulated ourselves on a job well done. Rather than missing the expansive garden of Brooking Street, our three courtyards provide us with just enough satisfaction and delight.
The relatively slower pace also allowed me time to reflect on the year thus far. We have kept the Gallery operational every weekend as an official Beverley tourism location. We have caught up with Callum, Bron, Immy and Alex. We have had Brenda and her daughter Louise to stay for two nights. The routine of shopping and bill paying has continued unabated. January was previously the month of two anniversaries for me - babies that didn't survive. We have added the loss of Ruby the cat to these occasions of remembrance. And we have enjoyed frequent visits from friends, including several of our artists. Lastly, we have pondered the actions and attitudes of those we hold close and those who are less welcomed.
Curious how we tolerate and embrace our friends, even when their attitudes may differ rather wildly from our own. Take Ron, a true Beverley character, for instance. In particular, our divergent political views could possibly lead to fierce debate. Or blows...Except Ron is a friend who is nothing but supportive of us, a regular attendant of our Sundowners, drops in for no particular reason other than sharing a coffee and provides us with endless amusing anecdotes of his life and other Beverley Hillbillies.
Families are problematic. We are born into groups that often dictate with whom we should form our first relationships. Even if we don't like them. Or have nothing in common with them. Or cause disharmony or disunity within the family, leading to abandonment, isolation or fractured relationships. My Mum was a master at manipulative games. I loved her, but I don't miss her at all. I don't miss the chaos. Her passing allowed all four of us siblings a chance to begin afresh. Without her death, we would not have had that opportunity.
I understand that those who have been hurt or abused may not feel any closeness whatsoever with some or all of their family. Or with those previously called friends. And is repairing ever possible after the breakdown of these relationships? Can trust be rebuilt? Or love? That takes willingness on all sides and commitment that some relationships are important enough to salvage. I remember a lawyer counselling me against divorce at the end of my first marriage unless there was no other option. There was no other option as far as I was concerned but the process was truly awful.
These are all tricky scenarios. On Saturday, a bunch of seven eclectic women, including me, met in a garden cafe in Guildford to celebrate Jan's sixty-fifth birthday. We all had our individual foibles and we probably would not have been all together except to honour and love our friend Jan. And we had a thoroughly eclectic and fabulous afternoon.
Likewise, Ernie, my ex and I have buried the hatchet, firstly with Callum and Bronwyn's wedding and then the arrival of Immy, our beautiful grandbaby. Ernie and I made Callum and he in turn with Bron, made our divine Imogen. Why on earth would we want to jeopardise being part of six grandparents who adore her? Imogen is the glue that binds us together and how lucky are we all.
I guess we can't expect everybody that we love to get on with each other as a matter of course. However, I think we should expect civility and respect at the very least between our family and any friends in our house and our Gallery.
Otherwise, what are we?
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