Breaking Up

Well brothers and sisters, last week we finally received THE LETTER: Notice to Vacate. By registered post no less.  We have been given a final date to exit the premises due to the house being renovated and sold. 

And unexpectedly, since getting this letter, all the uncertainty, the guilt and neglect has waned.  Having a real-life end time feels better. I actually don't feel so bad. I  can realise the value of having rented a garden we've been allowed to dig up and re-fashion to our hearts' content. 

There is purpose again! The style and function of a good sturdy POT has moved up in my opinion. There are itches in my fingers and thumbs to start weeding again. Last summer's gloves, crusted with dry dirt and home to 2 tiny spiders may make yet make a comeback in the back garden.

There are 6 short weeks before we must vacate. I now find myself scanning the front and back yards for plants I put in that might survive a dig-up and re-planting into pots. 

There's been sunshine and afternoons at home on the occasional weekend lately which draws me out back to take a good look at what's still kicking and what's keeled over. 

And then there's the garlic. Organic. Heirloom. Grown by Dad. garlic. Perhaps the only thing I regret planting (now that I won't be here long enough to eat it) is the garlic. The seeds (garlic bulbs) went into the ground in April. I was looking forward to harvesting them in Oct-Nov and sending a few bulbs back to the Head Farmer to get his expert review on my first ever garlic harvest. That probably won't happen now. I've considered lobbying the landlord into letting me come back in November to pillage whatever's left of my tiny crop, if he hasn't built a 2 storey block of units on top of it by then. 

The other suprisingly glorious thing about receiving The Letter is that now there is... (I'm about to use a word I don't dig much) ... closure. Like a relationship gone to seed, all that edginess and bad feeling finally gives way and new choices arise. That wholesome dirt, the million wild worms,  those maniacally self-seeding tomatos, the garlic plants I may not get back, they're alright to let go. 

I get a good feeling about wherever we move to next, knowing the garden might be completely different to the  one I've been shacking up with this past year. And that will be ok with me.