I had planned to spend the last day of the year in the garden. Planting the last bulbs, sowing the first seeds. I woke up dreaming of the metaphors it would bring me. Instead, I mess about with my children. Dawdle distractedly to the sound of an audiobook. Clear a window of…
If the sun never sets on the British Empire, let me be of the realms of the moon. Nothing new has been said under the sun, but when I speak I find my…
I try to understand the wound. What was the cause of the land and people’s severing? Why did those who lived here begin to feel it was not enough, to…
It is May. The forerunner of summer. I walk round the garden under leaden skies, braced against the wind. There was no frost last night thanks to the…
Yesterday was the spring equinox. Today things have already teetered off kilter, each day visibly longer than the night past. The race is on to sow…
I wake on the last day of January with a strong urge to tidy the house. With all four of us at home, all the time, the ebb and flow of our days leave…
Last night I dreamt of my garden. It was winter & I was surrounded by fresh greens: cabbages & lettuce, the name lollo rosso rolling around my mind. An…
The thing about living in a small community is the way in which you are fully seen. I remember the painful vulnerability of this; the desire to cloak…
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These are the things my garden told me