Sliding towards the end of September.
I am sitting in the sun at our newly build garden table. It is a solid beast of thing. I think I shall enjoy sitting and writing here over the coming summer months. I am in a sundress. It has turned warm after a more of what my brother in law would call “lack lustre” weather. I hear birds chirping in the trees and a wood pigeon swoops past. It sits on the power lines opposite the house. Just watching. I hear the hive. It is fair humming. The buzz of activity. It is the sound of a new season and of the work that needs to be done. I smell the scent of honey from the hive. I feel the warmth of the sun on my back. It all feels so simple and so satisfying.
I watch little dog move across the garden. Someone is walking past the gate. She has a little gap in the fence where she can stick her nose through. The person walks past. They don’t see her. She ambles back and starts digging out some dirt from a bucket. It is urgent work that only makes sense to her.
A breeze rises reminding me that it is nearly the spring equinox.
I have often wonder when a story begins. When is there enough action for a tale to become a tale. Is it when your mind starts day dreaming and idle thought start forming a plan? Or is it when you take the first step? Is action when a narrative starts? The dream of land of our own, our bees all in one space has been dancing around in our heads for many years. Covid kinda slowed us down but the desire for it is becoming so strong. We search listings and struggle to find what we need. Our dream is unique which means so is the land. It won’t be found in five minutes. So we try a different approach. Affirmations. We talk of this being our last bee season in this current set up. We suggest to each other that come the next spring we are living somewhere different. Will it work? Who knows. We make an appointment to view an eco house. Maybe that will encourage the land to reveal itself. We clean out the junk room moving rubbish collected over the years in the hopes that maybe we will list our house soon. These all little threads that hopefully when woven together will bring forth the picture of the next chapter in our life. In the meantime I mark in the garden where Damian’s Grandfather’s snowdrops are, in preparation for their new home. Wherever that may be.
We have family visiting from over seas. A trip planned three years ago. Finally here after a few delays. We travel inland to Naseby for a lunch with extended family. Aunts and Uncles whose embraces warms your heart. Conversation flows, a mix of catching up and reminiscing of years gone by. Lunch is had. More conversation passes. Plans are made to catch up again. We drive home. The landscape as always makes me hold my breath in wonder.
I am starting to have ideas of how to use this space form in my mind. As I tinker and doodle with ideas I wonder what you want to see here. What part do you want to play in this space? Let me know what these words give you and what you would like to see more of. Let’s create something nourishing and true. A community of similar souls.
She finally started to flower.