What’s Your Life Anchor?

beach-still-life-1332249_1920

Recently I’ve been feeling a bit adrift in my own life, a sort of vague searching for purpose type of feeling.  My default reaction to this sensation is to up sticks and re-locate which goes some way to explaining why we have lived in such a variety of places over the years.

But this time I must be thinking like a proper actual grown up (for once) as I have taken a step away from salacious property porn viewing on Rightmove and tried to identify exactly why I want to move.

Of course there is a large element of ‘greener grass’ syndrome, it is easy to think that everything will be better somewhere new.  The reality of this is summed up in a quote from my lovely friend Anna, “same shit, different view”.

Exactly.

I think it all comes down to having something to anchor you to a place.  It might be a family connection, a job, a partner, a lifelong ambition to live near the sea/city/countryside.

I chose Dorset five years ago because of the excellent state schools but as the teens grow older and move on even that tenuous link will be broken.

Which leaves me with…not much.  Dorset folk have proved a fairly tough nut to crack socially and I can take my work anywhere so no ties there.

Which leaves me a choice, to quell my fight or flight instinct and try to forge new reasons to stay, or to hit the Right move app and start the re-invention process all over again in a new place.

Common sense tells me to man up and do the former which is quite daunting as it involves lots of ‘putting yourself out there’ type activities.

The jury is still out so I will let you know what I decide but, in the meantime, what would consider to be your life anchors?  What keeps you happy and content where you are?

Advertisements

The Reluctant Gardener

The joy of gardening has always been a total mystery to me.  It is hard work, never ending, and to see results of your labours you have to play the long game.

I am more of an instant gratification girl.  I used to like that TV programme with Alan Titchmarsh and the woman who had no need of a bra.  They used to sweep into someone’s garden and completely transform it from a barren wasteland to a decking clad, fully flowering paradise in about 72 hours. That is my kind of gardening.

Even having a mother who is literally OBSESSED with growing, digging, cutting back and planting, and a best friend who has made a career out of the soil (she has even opened her own nursery, well worth a visit if you find yourself on the Isle of Wight), I have still never been able to bring myself to have lively chats about hardy annuals.

Until now.

There is a chink in my horticultural armour.  I have grown something!  Actually, a few things.

In between Christmas and New Year I spent a grumbly 90 minutes in the freezing rain and howling wind stuffing onions (I think ‘bulbs’ might be the technical term) into pots of earth (compost?).

My fingers went numb, my hair went frizzy, and my pink Converse got muddy.  The whole experience confirmed that all my feelings towards gardens were truly justified.  I retreated to the kitchen and sat glowering at the earth buckets as I defrosted with a cup of coffee.

But then, something happened.  The onions stared to grow.   Against my better judgement, and even though it went against all my principals, I started to take an interest.  I made a good fist of pretending not to care.  I channelled my inner 14 year old and treated the tiny shoots like they were a boy I really fancied. i.e. strolled nonchalantly into the garden pretending to be just putting the bins out whilst furtively casting desperate glances at the object of my desire.

Week by week they grew, and week by week I felt more excited until one sunny day I was greeted by the most lovely, brassy, uncoordinated mish mash of flowers (it was a sale bag of bulbs, a lucky dip of colours and varieties) all standing tall and proud, chests puffed out doing the tulip equivalent of jazz hands.

img_0768

I am not saying that I am a convert.  I will not be weeding, digging over or mulching anytime soon.  But I did, just a tiny little bit, get it.  My next project is a mini lavender farm to attract bumble bees – my contribution to protecting the ecosystem.  I know they don’t look much at the moment but I’ve got high hopes.  I’ll keep you posted.

img_0771