A time for learning
that is what wet Saturday afternoons are for.
It is a wet Saturday afternoon which is the perfect weather for school work. The other day I was bemoaning to the other half whilst driving somewhere to walk the dogs how I enjoy learning so much more as a nearly 50 years old than I did as a 5 year old and how I would relish the chance to spend all days just learning. Instead I squeeze in my learning like most of us around work, garden, life, chores which is why I am cherishing a wet Saturday because I have time to sit and learn. On this particular Saturday I am watching a recording of Alice Vincent’s recent webinar. It is my first time attending a writing masterclass and in my nervous excitement I turn up a day earlier than the class started. I only realise that I have miscalculated the time difference (Alice was in the UK) after sitting in the zoom waiting room for 15 or so minutes. As a result of my error I will need to watch the recording later which is how I am nestle on a Saturday afternoon, on my bed laptop open, tea made, a dog is nestled at my feet and my note book and pen at the ready. Let’s begin.
As Alice talks, she references the work of Jamaica Kincard, who is an author I enjoy. Her book “My Garden Book” is wonderful and as Alice reads an essay of Jamaica’s for our writing exercise I think to myself I must read it again. The essay Alice references is the story of moving house and we, as the students are to identify passages that resonant, noting things that we connect with. While others in the class reveal that it is the story of the piano or wood chopping that resonate, for me it’s Jamaica’s story of the process of moving house that I connect with the most. As the passage is read I find myself listening and connecting to the story of a family out growing a house, as we have. Our hobbies, which we have collected over the years, have come to fill ever corner of our home and this is without add the dogs which we didn’t have at the time. Our house is full and over the 10 years since we moved in we have created a life that has a different purpose and direction to when we first arrived. We are now at a point where we want to move to land with more space and we are at the moment making inching steps towards this change. As Alice reads on it is the sentences about putting a house on the market and the wait for it to sell with the line “It was expected that we should make a profit, but no one would buy our house…” that fills my stomach with a nervous twitch. I connect to the fear when your dream is dependant on other people in order for it to happen. I wonder what if that is what happens for us?
As Alice reads on I am starting to see this story as some sort of prophecy of our own next chapter (which it is not), so I am pleased when Alice confirms that the house eventually sold and Jamaica moves to her dream house, the only regret Jamica has is in her haste to leave her former homes is she forgot to take her beloved peonies to replant in her new home. As Alice continues with the story and my mind beigns to drift off to dream of garden and house plans for the land that is not yet ours or may perhaps never will be For the moment it is real. Bees fly, Airedales roam and of course it is not raining and my garden is lush and full and and and……
I tune back in to hear Alice speak of the ghost of previous owners, of land that belongs to others and I think of how we come to spaces and rest in them for a while. They become ours and we live in them, collecting plants and people and pianos and books and then we move on to create other stories in other places. Stories that we will share with others. The webinar progresses and I make notes as we learn more about the art of weaving other people’s words into our own. I think of how at this moment three different woman are sharing their worlds, one with her written words, one with her voice, while the other listens. It is a staircase of inspiration, of teaching, of gardens and of the homes each of us have created in very different parts of the world and at very different times of our lives of which I am at the bottom steps looking to climb up with my learning. I love that about words and stories, the connections that they create. The class draws to a closed with many grateful comments of ‘thank yous’ and ‘we must do this again’ appearing in the chat box and I quickly scribble on my paper, “Don’t forget to take the Peonies with you when you leave”.