May notes

Life happens, goals shifts, priorities change.

Time goes by, week after week after week…

Months.

The path is not linear.

It bends and meanders and sometimes it curves inwards like a spiral - have I not been here before, I wonder.

Maybe, probably, but not in this exact same place.

Perceptions changed, ideas matured, and I'm a different person.

A daily alteration, an everlasting metamorphosis, shedding skin after skin after skin - layers, dragging me down and no longer fitting.

Ups and downs.

Days of getting up early, eager to go into the garden to weed, mulch, prune, sow, plant.

Going to bed with sore muscles, content, and deeply grateful for the beauty of nature that I'm allowed to see every day.

Odd weather. A few summer-like days, than frost, rain, thunderstorms.

Some plants suffer - frost burns and blackens leaves, gales snap tender new growth, slugs feast on seedlings.

Sowing again, tidying up, rescuing what can be rescued and discarding what can't.

Days of travelling, long road trips.

Seeing family again after months.

Precious moments, hugs, smiles.

Bitter-sweet melancholy when it's time to leave, but also feeling the pull of home, of the life we built, of feline companions, good friends, and quiet country living.

Days of exhaustion.

Struggling to go back to healthy habits, and shake off the pizza and sweet food coma.

Cocooning at home, snuggling up by the stove with a blanket, a book, and a cat or two.

Storms and heavy showers.

Stuck indoors.

Sleeping badly.

Feeling adrift, untethered, lost.

Fighting the low mood, worrying that it might be something more...always wary of the black dog.

Giving in - pyjama day, going from bed to sofa, just books, tea, and comfort food.

Morning mist, then tremulous sun rays.

Stepping back into the garden, checking progress and growth.

The first rose blooms - Stanwell Perpetual.

Olivia Rose follows, first of the David Austin roses.

Abraham Darby,

Eustacia Vye,

and Gentle Hermione, three David Austin roses that never disappoint.

All clematis bloom, even the ones that last autumn looked dead and I transplanted into big pots, announcing out loud that this was their last chance, and failure to grow meant going into the compost heap.

Delphiniums start to flower - blue spikes of loveliness, bees and butterflies buzzing from them to the clump of chives.

The mood shifts, I feel lighter.

Spring is here - within and without.

Time to tend seedlings and new ideas.

Starting again.

Onwards.