GEILSTON: A PLACE OF HEALING, LAUGHTER AND BIRDSONG
Graham Morgan
25 03 2021
It must be six years ago that we took wee James home from the ICU in the sick kids in Glasgow . I remember those days vividly; Wendy’s description of the relative’s room; the beeping machines, James when he came out of his induced coma, asking for a blueberry muffin. Me, walking the streets while waiting on Wendy, hoping my new family would survive and then; just a couple of days after that muffin, Under that huge tree in the walled garden in the bright blue of summer! James and his twin, Charlotte, cuddling and dancing and tottering on the grass by the tree. Us; grinning, laughing; the horror of the last few days not exactly fading but slipping aside for a moment.
Geilston was the perfect setting for the start of James’s recovery. The haze of the trees, with green grass and flowers and birdsong. A picnic, a rug; the delight of life continuing when for a while it had hung in the balance with nurses studying machines, parents caught on the dread of the worst ever news and me, the new member of the family; giving the lifts, tidying the house, making meals until we allowed ourselves to smile and Wendy started her constant journeys upstairs to check her, now healthy son, was still breathing while he slept.
Geilston has been, until recently the place we love to go to; James’s favourite place. The place we walk by the burn, play pooh sticks with pine cones on one of the little bridges. We find fairies here and toadstools. We have sat under the pergola for picnics and we have swung from rhododendron bushes. We have looked at swathes of daffodils, loved the bluebells. We have sat on the carved mushrooms at the play bit where the children climb on the netting. I have lost to both James and Charlotte at the tennis and tried to pretend I meant to. The children have chased us up and down the flowery maze until we are breathless. James has burst into tears when our hide and seek was too good, up at the white bench where the orchard starts.
The children have peered at the plants, the pumpkins. James has led us on bizarre journeys on easter egg hunts with his map held upside down in front of his face sure he knows the way; looking forward to his ‘free’ chocolate.
We have sat on the benches at the entrance, talking to the staff; drinking our drinks and eating our snacks, wondering which of the vegetables to buy from the stand besides us.
It is a lovely, lovely, place to sit and walk and ponder and wonder and also a lovely place where children shriek with laughter and have wondrous mini adventures.
Of course it is not just a place for children; it is a place for everyone. I sometimes go there to sit on a bench to write on my laptop; to rest and muse with the maze of the green light, the slight sound of the trickle of the water.
I am one of those people some people would call ‘troubled’. I have a lovely life but I also have a diagnosis of schizophrenia and can struggle to connect to the world and the people around me. My family are without a shadow of doubt the people that give me the wonderful life I have. The NHS most probably keeps me functioning but one of the things that really keeps me alive and filled with the pleasure that I live where I do is the wonder of the fresh air and the natural world.
I find walking can calm my thoughts, the motion of my body soothes my muscles, reduces the chatter of thoughts I do not want to have. Sitting besides a peat dark river, the water sliding softly past can lull me into a softness. Looking at the beauty of flowers and the motion of the birds inspires me. Walking in the soft mistiness of the trees makes my breath soft and happy. I once wrote an article saying that nature is our Natural Health Service and for me, at least, that is true.
It may be taking Dash the dog for walks at Ardmore but it is also ambling among flowers in places like Geilston; looking at the trees heavy with blossom; looking at the old house and saying to Wendy;
“Imagine if that was renovated? If people could come here to write, sing, dance or draw or just sit. Imagine if this was a place where I could just pause to watch the sunset or a place where we could listen to music or cook a meal?”
We used to imagine winning the lottery and buying Geilston for the people of Cardross but wanted to be able to live there too!! But that was our idle imagination. Now I hear, one day, it may be a place where activities like that happen because of the efforts of people who, unlike us, acted on their dreams to keep it open.
For me there is something wonderful about seeing vegetables growing; apples ripening. To walk in no particular direction between the trees ending up in the walled garden.
Imagine if this were a place we could all go to? To find peace and refuge and the delight in knowing we can relax with the wonder of the green grass, the bright flowers, so many butterflies in summer; the welcome of the staff when we walk into the vegetable garden.
This place is a place that gives me room to breathe and smile; room to laugh and dare to roll down the hill with the children in the height of summer, when being dizzy and filled with the scent of soil and vegetation makes me realise how precious the world really is when sometimes I struggle to realise this.
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