I used to have a lot more fuchsias in my garden. They are quite hardy but the drought knocked them back. This one survived and flowers at this time of year, making my heart dance.
When I first met fushias
Feminine needlecraft flourished when I was a child. A good country woman could embroider, knit crochet, sew clothes, mend and darn. While I was trained to be nimble with a needle I could only sigh at the neat dainty stitches of Nana, Mum, my smiling aunts and big sister.
Starting on a pristine new piece, I dreamed that this would be beautifully realistic and one day adorn the duchess.
"What are these flowers?" I asked Mum.
"Fushias," she said. "They are very pretty flowers that don't grow much up here." Such things were always said with a wistfulness that signalled that she too was dreaming ... of her old life 'back home' in Melbourne where unlike Queensland there were seasons, sisters and city delights.
The fuchsias lie unfinished in my needlework box. Fondling them today my fingers itch to fill in their bright colours. I dream on.
Nana sitting on the back step in the sunshine knitting.
Ephesians 3:20 The Message
"God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us."