As I sat in a patch of strawberries and chives, weeding and moving them to a better home, I realised how much I need this. How much I need to spend my days outside, in the soil, sunshine, mud, grit, dirt, grass, flowers, compost, alongside the slugs and snails, and crickets and butterflies.
Today gave me time to really ponder about how I feel like I’ve made a choice to get through this. But to try to surrender to it too. That’s the tricky bit. The bit that seems to pipe up and say ‘yo, don’t forget about me babe.’
It gave me time to think of how I attempted to commit suicide. To touch in with the vat of emotion that follows this realisation.
It gave me time to miss my dad. To ask him how he’s doing way over there with his toes in Canadian soil. To think of the things I’d say to him. To give him a sorry that I’m not in touch. That I can’t be. I wonder what he’s doing, who he’s playing to, what he’s singing, what shirt he’s wearing, whether he’s presentable, whether he looks scruffy, whether he looks loveable, whether he’s being loved, whether he’s being looked after, whether he has a community around him, whether he still sits with that lady in the teashop.
I talked about my dad. I talked about his record contract offer from The Beatles manager. I talked about his playing on the main stage at Glastonbury. I talked about him playing his harp to Michael Eavis who began glastonbury. I talked about how they were really good friends. I talked about his ability to turn up on people’s doorsteps at the right time – his dabble with six sense style stuff. I talked about his eccentricity, his schizophrenia, his weirdness, his obsession with my sister, his regard of me as the one that’s special – the one that’s okay – the one that holds it all – the one that has the answers always – the responsibility that I always felt was a weird one.
As I sat on the step after lunch, mud on almost all of my clothes and most of my face, I missed him. I really let myself feel that emptiness and hurt and pain and loss and sorrow and loneliness and want and need and longing and to cry. I cried for you dad. I miss you.
So here is a flower for you. Each time I see it I will think of you dear pa.
As I carried stones on top of the strawbale house, I spoke of all the anger I had towards you. I spoke the beginnings of unfinished or un-had conversations had with you. For that, there is more to come. But for now I want to sit with the present and the sadness but the peace too.
And so here is a shot of the chives and my shoes. Chives make good company when you’re not sure what to do.
Strawberries make good company too. I got to know this little patch well yesterday as I plucked them from their cosy home and set them to a new one beneath the hedgerow.
Get out there and get in it.
Because nature really does it.
Would love to know how nature helps you folks. Or just what bits you find yourself in in the day. Even if it is just a smidgen of grass or a quick chat with a flower – it still counts and helps the head 100%, so go give yourself that time as you deserve it. ☀