Dreaming and Doing
I get the urge for “going” from time to time. Maybe it’s my Army Brat upbringing, but whatever it is, I get a gnawing pain inside to move on to something new.
My latest gnawing has me dreaming about owning a small Victorian cottage on 7 acres to start and to nourish a thriving herb farm. I plan to name each field after a person who positively influenced my life.
One of those people is, “T”. I learned to garden from her when I was 28 . She was a 72-year old sweetheart in my Beginners Swimming Class. Neither of us had learned this vital skill as young children and both grew brave one day and decided to learn.
My Swim Brave decision led me to this wondrous friendship with “T”. Her given name was Mathilda but she never liked that name. “T” fit her perfectly and she schooled me in leaf compost. The essence of composting leaves still gives me such a satisfied feeling.
She taught me about perennials and annuals, about rotating crops and about putting the garden to bed in the fall. This delightful woman taught me about the earth and with every garden I have started, nourished and then left, I feel her presence.
I am looking, looking, looking for the right property in the wee hours of each morning. I vacillate between, “Stupidest idea ever” to “Best, most wondrous idea ever”.
I am a very good gardener and have a deep love of nature. I feel most solid with my hands in the dirt. I want to create a sanctuary for people to calm their minds and awaken their senses. I want to make money doing it.
I have not made wise money choices, or relationship choices in the past. I am beyond tired of beating myself up for my double faux pas. I am tired of worrying about money, and about my shoulders and about depending on others and about…staying in worry.
Poet Mary Oliver’s words guild my dreams and show me the way in my fog, “What will you do with your one, wild life?”
Time to look at properties.