Thoughts from my Garden
I’m sitting in our new garden with coffee in hand and the sun on my face, staring out across the rooftops at beech and conifer, a gap in the trees where the railway lies, then Butser Hill on the horizon. Having lived a very privileged life, I feel the need to correct myself when I imagine the things I ‘want' and ‘need’, but this is something I’ve truly wanted for a long time. To sit in my own garden and melt in the sunshine, listening to a greenfinch wheezing in the tree over there and smelling new growth pushing out from the earth in early spring. Our old flat was small, cosy and perfect for the first three years of our relationship, but we all grow and move on, and whenever the sun shone outside I couldn’t help longing for a patch of garden - to sit in silence and feel the changing seasons pass by. And now - it’s here! Small and sturdy, tiered on three levels with a summer house and decking at the top that’s flooded with sunlight all day long. There’s lots I want to do to it - an old lady lived here before us so it was designed for low maintenance, and I’m desperate to remove the gravel, build a raised bed, break up some of the concrete at the bottom and dig a pond. But for now, it’s perfect. I can see a wild rose against the fence, crocuses in flower, long-tailed tits in the shrubbery and all kinds of cultivated plants whose identity is unknown to me. I always try to remain grateful for the things I have, but at the same time I try to remember what makes me happiest in life - properly happy and peaceful in my core. Most of the time it’s only this - just sitting in the sunshine, listening to the birds, drinking freshly ground coffee with that snazzy oat milk from Waitrose. It’s enormously freeing because I know that as long as we can pay our mortgage and feed ourselves and Pablo, the things that make me happiest are beyond finances and material goods. They’re always there - just outside, in our own sunlit corner of the South Downs.