Beautiful gardens in Malta have suffered

Over ten years ago, I visited San Anton Palace in Malta and wrote a piece about its connection with Queen Marie of Romania and how she spent her happy teenage years there. Her father was Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh (son of Queen Victoria), and her mother was Grand Duchess Maria Alexandrovna of Russia (daughter of Tsar Alexander II). (See link: san-anton-palace-and-romanov-connection

I thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful gardens surrounding the palace. You might also recognise the gardens from Game of Thrones, in the memorable scene where the despicable Joffrey took Sansa Stark to see her father's head on a spike. That scene was filmed in San Anton Gardens.

In those days, visitors could not only enjoy the gardens but also walk through parts of the palace and visit the kitchen gardens behind it. There was a petting zoo, an immense children's playground, and a huge café that was very reasonably priced, with lovely seating both indoors and outdoors.

This month I returned to enjoy the gardens' quiet beauty and perhaps a coffee, only to find that they had been allowed to deteriorate. Stone paths were breaking up beneath my feet, all the turtles had disappeared from the lovely pond, and signs of neglect were evident everywhere. 

The palace was closed to the public, as were the kitchen gardens, their grounds, and the café. It has remained closed since August 2024 for extensive refurbishment and restoration works, with no confirmed reopening date.

Today I revisited another old favourite of mine, Sa Maison Gardens on the Floriana Bastions. (See my blog post: sa-maison-gardens-remembering-lady.html) Sadly, this beautiful garden was also in disarray. It has been fenced off since last year because of structural restoration works on the eighteenth-century bastion walls and the conversion of the grounds into new shaded and coastal botanical zones.

It saddens me to think of the loss of all those lovely trees and plants that had a history stretching back to Lady Lockwood's time in the 1840s. For some reason, the lemons from the main trees had an extraordinary fragrance; when scratched, they released a scent reminiscent of the most expensive men's cologne.

I know that Malta faces a constant challenge in maintaining and repairing its vast stock of historic buildings and landscapes. There is so much beauty and history that requires care, nurturing, and investment. However, sometimes when we fix things, we do not preserve them—we destroy them. Clearly, investment continues to be made. It is also clear where the priorities lie, and sadly, historic gardens seem to rank rather low on the list.

City Gate / Parliament / Opera House  €100 million

Fort St Elmo                                          €15.5 million

Fort St Angelo                                  €13.4 million

Marina di Valletta                                  €7.5 million

St Elmo Breakwater Bridge                  €2.8 million

One can only hope that when both these gardens eventually reopen, they will still retain some of the character, charm, and living history that made them such special places in the first place.

Consider the flowers of a garden: though differing in kind, colour, form and shape,.. this diversity increaseth their charm, and addeth unto their beauty.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Storms, trees - lessons learned

When the storm came this year, the winds were hard. Stronger than we could have ever imagined and both fences and trees were thrown as by an outraged toddler having a temper tantrum. Trees that clumped together shared their shelter and some survived. Others were toppled even huge trees with a root system that was the size of a large van. Those with shallow roots were the first to fall. The direction of the wind was clear from the fallen trees on either side of the road. 

Everywhere the clean-up continues and tree surgeons and gardeners are making a packet! A month later and their work goes on seemingly endless. Usually having no leaves is a protection for trees. There is less to catch the furious wind and for that reason greater number of coniferous trees were toppled, acting like mini sails their leaves caught the brutal gales and like yachts got pulled over. But in this storm, even the barren naked trees were knocked down too. How sad to see the budding leaves on toppled trees that had already begun to respond to spring. Cut down in their prime before they bloomed. 

The importance of shelter has become crystal clear. A building, or a nearby hill often protected nearby trees. They took the brunt of the angry wind and saved their living neighbours. Some of these trees had taken 50 to 100 years to grow but with no shelter fell in just one night. All those days and years of growth, gone in a matter of hours. It feels like gratuitous violence. Are there lessons for us to learn in all of this? 

1. Grow in tight-knit communities, know your neighbours and hold them close. Sometimes you are the reason for their survival and occasionally they are yours. 

2. Grow deep roots into sound principles and facts, don’t waste time with all the ornamental stuff above ground. That can only add to your chances of destruction. Instead, look to the foundational stuff and make sure it is sound. 

3. At times of catastrophes sacrifice is called for. Trees that can bear the brunt of the storm can shelter those behind them. Even as they fall their debris fuels the ecosystem and their loss brings more light to others. Life should have a purpose, a role to play. Many times, it is those who sacrifice themselves for others who are remembered with love and leave a legacy. 

4. The barren stump of a fallen tree sometimes be sustained by the entwined roots of neighbouring surviving trees who direct nutrients and nourishment to their fallen neighbour. Just as they instil life into a gravely damaged comrade we too can reach out to help those devastated by illness, disability or loss. Our vital connections can nourish them when their own resources are spent. 

"Be worthy of the trust of thy neighbour, and look upon him with a bright and friendly face."

Baha'i Writings

Breaking things

 

It came yesterday, borrowed from a relative, and stirred up old forgotten memories.

Of struggling to thread up a pedal singer sewing machine in primary school. 

Those days of being taught knitting and sewing at school have long passed. 

In my day, we spent hours and hours knitting cushion covers or sewing pin cushions. 

I was the class expert in breaking the needles in the sewing machine, 

and our teacher hated my unnatural skill. 

Even my knitting was hit-and-miss. 

It seemed to become tighter and tighter until I was strangling wool and needles. 

My sewing was so bad on the machine that when I did get it going, 

I refused to change the bobbin and thread and did everything with the one colour. Delighted to paddle and zoom in freedom.

At such moments I would have loved to have never-ending curtains of material to feed through the capricious machine. 

Instead, always someone else was waiting to use the machine behind me.

When the needle broke as usual I could hear their despair

I quickly left them to the disaster

Machines are capricious things like people.

Usually broken by others.

There was a flow chart in our engineering department on how to deal with a broken machine.  It always made me laugh.