Not Going There; Staying Here

I admit it: at the beginning of this “new normal” I found a lot to enjoy. I had five people I particularly like sheltered in this castle, spring was coming on, no commute, meals got better because we were being creative, game night with adult children, and lots of amazing online content being generated by talented people stuck at home. Those were amazing days as the news items kept blowing us out of the water and we had a sense of being survivors. It was all so hygge: warm family life inside while a storm raged out there.

But I am so done with that topic and this is the last you will hear on the subject. I won’t even mention the name. Moving on.

If I were teaching I would only see my garden in the golden hour, home after a long day with a tired brain. I would be doing garden work on the weekends. Only then would I be able to sit quietly on a bench in the embrace of the cedar. But when I am not conducting video classes or prepping I have been able to putter in the garden every day (when it is not snowing *eyeroll*).

I have created a garden park! And I like to think it is a visual expression of my soul. Paths for journey, benches for meditation, profuse blossoms for joyous celebration, but also quite a bit of wild unpredictability.

 

Every year I expand it. There are four seating areas. I have three benches out in the sun and rain, and one under a shelter so I can even sit out there in the damp. (I have to walk through a roof drip line to get there, but pish–it is nothing.)

For Mother’s Day my men expanded a tiny stone patio I have with two huge flat rocks, so I can have a fire pit out there.

 

 

I imagine I’ll cook on it some evenings but mostly it is a gathering spot in the dusk for us to sit together and bide a wee. Robbo and I are going to pick one out on Friday. He laughs about an unnecessary luxury since we have a burn pile/cooking pit down in the back field, but wait till he enjoys that snapping fire pushing back the chill night air, sparks flying lazily into the twilight to meet the stars. Not to mention venison stew. Apple crisp in a Dutch oven. Garlic rolls.

Can you guess who made this little path?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chipmunks! Straight to the door where I scatter sunflower seed. I have many happy chipmunk families. I enjoy their busy lives played out before me. I have a feeling I’ll be paying for it in garden damage.

This garden becomes a place for me to get perspective on all the challenges coming through my computer screens. It pulls me outside where pushy spring winds caress my face. And more than all the others, it provides ephemeral beauty that seems to come straight from heaven’s fields, a taste of home.

About lettersfromheartscontent

Mother of six, wife to a forester and educator, formerly homeschool teacher and tutor with Classical Conversations. Now teaching music at a small Christian school. I enjoy dabbling in acrylic paints in my spare time, composing for my family and for my choir, and visiting with my family regularly on Hangouts.
This entry was posted in Sheltering at Home, Stories of Home and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Not Going There; Staying Here

  1. Becky Matthews says:

    Oh, I love it! Of course, I’ve been getting tons of gardening done also, so I can relate. It’s the first year I’ve been able to clean all the weeds out of all the perennial beds. We had the birches cut down and are contemplating new interesting trees. Jamie built me a shale path between the vegetable bed and the large perennial bed! We planted a Japanese weeping ‘Pink Parasol’ tree at the bend in the path. It all adds so much interest. I just don’t know where to put our bench. No obvious shade areas where I can relax and enjoy the gardens.
    Thanks for sharing this :)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s