Change

A year ago this wasn't our garden. It was mostly lawn over some combination/crappy soil and a drive that we'd got rid of, lots of overgrown mature shrubs left by previous occupants and a high escalonia hedge.
I was still finishing my OU degree, and having a vegetable garden was just a dream.

Today, it's all still a work in progress - temporarily there's a distinct shortage of flowers. But the blossom and the flowering shrubs and the weeds are tiding over the bees while I wait for my flowers to grow. The front and the left hand side of the house is an awful mess of neglect and brokenness, but we're getting there.

Last June we started with a new greenhouse and 4 veg beds - which soon grew to 6. It was too late for much growing success - and everything got eaten by slugs, but it was a start. We put in 2 wooden composters, cut back overhanging trees, and I tried tens of different environmentally friendly slug, cat and badger deterrents. It was like a practice run.

Over Autumn and Winter we were plagued by ill-health, stress, Richard's polyps operation and infection, and the beginnings of me dealing with my anxiety. But from Christmas onwards I thought about the garden and started to buy seeds with eating and helping bees in mind. (I realise that reads a little like I want to eat bees so I've kept it in for comedy effect).

Something's grown in me since I started getting mucky (ha ha) - I listen to what's going on around me and I don't feel stressed and anxious. I'm just a tiny part of something much, much bigger. I know now that you can never really own or control anything. You borrow your life, you borrow your patch you call home and all you can do is find a way of going with it and preferably not against it. What I CAN do is produce, protect, feed, nurture and - best of all - create!

This year has got off to a troublesome start with the weather but I've experimented with things and managed to start a lot of stuff off indoors. I've added new veg beds in other areas, we've put in yet another compost bin, and I'm growing LOADS of edible things on the patio in pots too. I've put in fruit trees, and I'm thinking - properly thinking and being sensible. What do we like and what do we eat? What would the bees like? What veg have nice flowers? What's the point of growing kohl rabi if no one's going to eat it? (May need to check the spelling of that one). I'm getting a buzz from each germination, each new plant and each new flower bud. The craving for newness and freshness is in all of us, but perhaps more so in women? That feeling when you get to the till in a shop with a wickedly expensive pair of shoes, that feeling when you choose a dress for a wedding: planning for new things and seeing them appear is truly thrilling. That feeling I get from gardening - only better. The guilt factor is not there. It's a productive newness, a progressive newness. This last year it's been an expensive newness but a lot of that's stuff we won't have to pay for again.

The weird thing is, it hasn't made me feel precious about anything. Quite the reverse. If we had to move I know I could do it all again elsewhere. I'd rather not move from my little sanctuary - with low traffic noise, low light pollution and relative privacy but I could if I had a garden of some kind.

So: the garden's changed, I've changed and I feel the need for more change. Something in my anxious little whirl when I'm not gardening has to give; more than one thing really. The housework has already given. It's a bit grubby in our house these days. But something in my head has to give too - and that's why I'm writing this incredibly long entry.
I've been thinking a lot in the last few days and wondering whether to give up my writing blog. Not to give up writing, per say, just to remove any commitment, and any public profile.

Today was the clincher. 2 things have happened:
1. Last night I spilled a cup of tea (camomile - I think it's important to mention) and it flooded into the bottom of my laptop. I didn't panic, I waited until this morning to see if it would dry out. I went to bed thinking about all my stories and the odd bit of OU stuff I'd like to keep, and the 5,000 photos on the laptop.
Today the laptop is dry but still not working. I'd like my stories. I'd like them here with me somewhere secure and safe. It's not enough to know some are published with Ether Book app and more are on my blog. I want them here. But I'm still not upset about that. I'm upset that I used money my mum gave me a year after my dad died to buy that laptop - and I want that actual laptop that's been in my hands taking my grief and my emotions for over 3 years. That probably sounds a bit daft.
2. Increasingly I've been thinking about how rude I seem. I find social communication exhausting and I struggle to find the right words. I frequently avoid social situations - and that includes online. It really is a case of social word block. I can't think how else to describe it. That combined with low self-esteem means I don't cope with compliments well or "properly". If I write a story or a blog post and 4 people leave me a compliment, I feel uncomfortable writing "thank you" 4 times. Crazy as it seems. It feels too gushing and unnatural. I realise that will be difficult for most people to understand because as I'm writing it I can see how abnormal it sounds. It's not laziness, it's not rudeness. It's bashfulness with a capital B. Well, today I read someone commenting elsewhere about how not thanking people for praise was downright rude, and that nailed it for me. I thought the Internet was a place where common social expectations, and conditions, manners and niceties could be escaped. Not human kindness and not decency, just rules... (gosh... that's a whole great other conversation).
I don't thank each and every nice person for their nice comments. I don't say every nice thought I'm thinking. I'm clumsy, bashful and inept. I'm not rude in a deliberate way. But if I'm going to be perceived that way I will reduce the chances of that happening.

I can't find the head space for all the things I should do and say. It's annoying for me too.

So. I think the online writer profile is what will give. Good bye to expectations. Good bye to feeling a need to update all the time.

I will keep this blipfoto journal going as long as I feel I'm getting something from it but I'm afraid I will continue to struggle to openly acknowledge every comment.

Nature: now that's got no social expectations.