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Title : A Temporary Activist Updates and then Escapes to her Garden
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A Temporary Activist Updates and then Escapes to her Garden

 Thanks so much for your supportive comments on my last post. Honestly, I'm embarrassed to have garnered any praise for bravery; I don't feel as if I have been, particularly, as I don't see any threat or risk to my public recitation of facts. But I'm very pleased to have my sister's bravery and commitment recognized and honoured -- and especially, to see reassurance that so many are grateful to survivors for speaking up. This is such a welcome change from when they were intimidated and silenced or made to feel as if they were embarrassing, awkward, irritating in their persistence ("Oh, Why does she keep on about it? It happened years ago, time to move on")

My sister's doing a radio interview this morning; she did another on Monday, and a newspaper interview Sunday, and she appeared on a television news program yesterday.  She's responding to the larger questions raised -- again! -- by the Pennsylvania report; she's being asked about the Pope's letter, its potential for action, for hope . . . In the interviews she's done so far, she's put aside her own feelings about the obituary, not even mentioned it, focussing on the global and systemic problems which her own case examplifies. . .

But me? I was specifically (and probably selfishly) responding to the hurt and indignation my sister felt on reading that obituary. I do understand that newspapers don't write obituaries, that they publish them at the behest of the bereaved, and that they are compensated for them as for advertising content.  I also understand that their policy would probably respect a societal injunction that we not "speak ill of the dead," so they would only allow certain comments to be published below an obituary.

However.

Imagine if a serial rapist in your province or state is convicted, serves a sentence after victims have testified to the damage they continue to suffer long after the trauma. Imagine he dies years, even decades, after his crimes. Do you not think that newspapers might have evolved some protocols around any obituary his bereaved might care to publish? At the very least, do you not think some media interest might surround his death with a nod to his victims?  (Note that this man's number of  bereaved is limited by his age and celibacy).

Well, this priest was a serial sexual predator. Convicted of a crime. There are many others out there, and if no such protocol or policy exists yet to consider a survivor of clerical abuse's response to a whitewashing obituary, I'd say it's about time.

And in the short run, I really wanted my sister to know that others thought that obituary was offensive in ignoring what had been done to her.

But I never intended this blog to be a space for any activism, only posted what I did on Monday because the issue was affecting me so forcefully in my personal life and it felt inauthentic not to let you know what I was doing on other social media.

So now, it's back to the garden. . .


 The series of photos above and this one below

show the rusted iron gate left behind by the previous owners -- I was so pleased they left it (although the other resident gardener wasn't so sure at first, mistrustful of inheriting junk -- we did insist they haul away the "potting table" that took up way too much real estate).

The two roses that use the gate (which is loosely propped against the wall) for support are New Dawn and this rugosa rose, which I suspect is 'Hansa," the same rugosa I had in my old garden.

Again this year, the New Dawn is struggling, partly because we were away for so long in the spring (not watered as much as it should have been, so then it succumbed to some rust fungus -- I cut it well back, then sprayed and fed and chatted to it, and it's just beginning to bloom again now).

But the Hansa is quite healthy, as rugosas are wont to be, although the paucity of bloom suggests the other gardener may have been applying the wrong fertilizer (ever-so-healthy foliage though ;-)

The photos above also give you a sense of the contrast between garden and surrounding urban architecture -- you'll see why the garden feels like my oasis.


And below, the late-August garden begins to move toward fall (although fall's crisp air seems a foolish dream now, covered as we are by a thick pall of smoke)


The chrysanthemums Pater bought last year for a splash of instant fall colour made it through the winter with no problem, pleased us these last several weeks with their rich, textured foliage, and are now slowly opening their golden-petalled, geometrically intricate flowers. Behind them, the Rudbeckia (brown-eyed Susan), one of the best summer-fall bridges I could hope to cross. . .

I'm thrilled every single time I look at these apples

growing bigger by the day in what would once have seemed to me a very unlikely location. . .

Red tinges are beginning to appear on them -- you know I'll be trying to paint them soon. . .

The nasturtiums -- much favoured by the black aphids, not so much by the green or orange ones. Some days I squish, some days I squirt -- depends whether or not I've seen ladybugs or spiders around trying to make a meal. We recently took a class on Bumble Bees at Van Dusen Botanic Garden -- and learned that there's a wasp so tiny that it flies underneath an aphid and lays an egg inside the aphid so that the wasp larva has both home and larder while it grows. . . Cool (and a bit horrifying!), no?

And this hollyhock, also left behind by the previous owners. Bloom by bloom, the flowers climb its stalk. Each one deserves contemplation and admiration -- invites meditation, offers comfort. And I'm looking forward to the seed heads as they form and dry and add sculptural interest to the fall and, eventually, winter garden.

Okay, that's it for today's tour.

Now over to you. Comments very welcome although, again, we have a granddaughter with us all week, so my time to respond is limited.

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