Days 20 – 22: smidgins of joy

Smidgins of something, anyway; perhaps not joy.

Work has been intense these last two or three weeks. A hiatus coincided with Friday evening, but I was too fatigued to make much of it. In any case, I shall have to rev up my engines again before the end of the weekend.

To say that I enjoy gardening is too simplistic a statement. Yes, I do. But like everything else, it seems, it carries a whole lot of baggage.

For one, gardening has always been a kind of occupational therapy for me. It’s been something for me to do to keep my temper in check. Something through which to channel my frustrations. Gardening has always been a way to deal with my anger in a way that is not destructive or meaningless. It calms me down, and gives me space to recalibrate.

Well, it was. Until now.

Now that I have to move house, the garden which has been the space in which I have sought and found the necessary renewing of my mind is no longer “mine”. It needs tidying up before I leave this place. A lot of it needs dismantling; as it is, it will make no sense to anyone else.

Dismantling began on Friday after the day’s work at the desk, and yesterday. Rather than finding myself in a place in which to dissolve my anger, I was shocked to discover that it was now a source of anger.

Or, more accurately, merely the place where I was when I had to face my anger about all sorts of things. A strange, liberating arc took me back over forty years in the space of an instant. No, there was no trauma back then, in case you’re wondering, but now I have found the root, and it is staring me in the face. And that’s something that I need to deal with beyond the contemplation of the last couple of days.

I suppose there are stranger things that have happened in the middle of this small village, but this one is mine, and I guess I am grateful that it occurred now, on my “weekend off”.

Things will grow where they will: self-sown peas, out of season.

Today’s photo is a symbolic one. Three little peas decided to start growing next to this young frangipani tree, a cutting given by a friend. The lesson to be drawn is that things will grow where they will, and that constitutes a smidgin of joy. I stuck a support in the ground for good measure. I guess I will do the same metaphorically for the revelation about my anger.

I spent part of the day today, Sunday, tidying up in the garden, reducing my imprint, as it were. It was slow, deliberate, and meditative. Accepting, even, and with fresh purpose, capable of looking elsewhere.

I wondered about publishing this post. I decided I should, if only to demonstrate that life is not all about carnations and carrots. There’s more.

©2019 Allison Wright

4 thoughts on “Pause

Add yours

    1. I won’t dismantle everything. The raised beds out of pallets can stay, but neatening up involves getting rid of projects mid-way to completion. I have no control over what happens to this garden once I leave, but the least I can do is leave the space in order. It is sad, however, since I have to hold myself from planting new stuff that I know won’t grow without care. The cycle is broken, so yes, it is sad.


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