This is the view from my new kitchen window. A lovely apricot tree is the centrepiece of the new garden:)
I am emerging from two weeks of post-moving blues. If there is a way to panic and worry about any situation, I will find it, and moving house is ripe with potential for panic. So far I have panicked about being unable to light a fire and having us all die of hypothermia, panicked about the cat refusing to accept that this is his new home (I have had to retrieve him three times so far from the old house), driven myself to distraction trying to keep the dog and the cats apart (they still want to tear each other limb from limb whenever they see each other), panicked that I have moved to a house with not enough sunshine for growing vegies, worried that the children will regret leaving their old house, worried about the plumbing, about curtains (or lack thereof), about dry wood, about getting a new fence built, changing addresses, building more cupboards, getting some trees cut down to let more sunshine in, and getting all the boxes unpacked before 2020.
The thing is, none of the things I worry about are at all impressive. I get my knickers in a knot about the most mundane things, but from the point of view of panic they seem insurmountable. Yesterday I took a break from worrying and doing all the jobs and being snappy and irritable, and went back to the old house, this time not to pick up the cat, but one of my lemon trees. The new owner removed one, and as he knows how attached I am to all my trees, he offered it back to me, which was very nice of him. I went and picked it up and brought it to its new home, found a sunny spot and started to dig. There is already a lemon tree here, and while I was poking around I found another wee lemon tree, almost smothered under weeds and a wildly tangled rose bush. Feeling like Mary in The Secret Garden I rescued it and dug it in to my ever expanding new little citrus grove.
Newly discovered lemon in the citrus grove at the top of my weedy new garden.
I moved into a house with one lemon tree, and now I have three:)
My new-old lemon tree. It is a Meyer, my favourite. The terrible thing about transplanting trees is that you have to cut all the fruit off to let the tree put its efforts into roots rather than fruits. It feels mean.
But here is what I remembered as I dug and weeded and planted. Gardening makes me calm. Gardening is literally a grounding experience. All the worries fall away as I potter about and talk to birds and plants and earthworms and enjoy the sun on my back. For the past weeks I have been diligently doing my jobs inside, unpacking and cleaning and cooking and rescuing cats and comforting children, and for the weeks before that I had been doing the same at the old house. What I was missing was hands in the dirt! So today I went out and planted daffodil bulbs from the old house that I found in a box. Luckily there is always another job to do in a garden. In this garden I have years of anxiety-reducing messing about in the dirt to do. Such a relief:)
What do you do to calm down the panic stations?