In between times

At this time of year in the UK, we yearn for as much sun and warmth as possible. In our case, we can’t wait to start planting in the garden. Last month I came back from the US to classic spring weather: one day of cold grey clouds, the next day is rain, the next bright and sunny, but often with an icy cold northerly wind. I tried pulling out a few warm weather clothes, but they are now stuffed back into the overhead bins in the closet. It was still just a bit too cold for short-sleeves and linen trousers. Certainly too cold for greenery to feel like bursting forth.

On a sunny Sunday morning, we head out on a thirty minute walk to our favourite beach-side cafe for brunch. When the winds are from the South West, the cliff shelters us from the strongest breezes. The cafe is busy but our favourite window table for two is free. We slide into our seats, order our food and take deep breaths. THIS is why we moved here. This is what we love to do whenever we can. Bask in the warm sunshine, gaze at the glittering sea stretching to France, and breathe deeply in and out.

One of the things I love about our to-ing and fro-ing life is the ability to indulge both my conflicting desires: to see new places and spend time with friends and family, while alternating with household hermit-crabbing. After a month of socialising and exploring, I love to potter around our comfortable home and feather the nest. Yes I am aware I have awkwardly conflated two very different animal home metaphors. 🐚 🪺🪶

While it was too cold for much activity in the garden, we focused our energy on plotting interior improvements to our 150-year old house. Once again we have been looking through catalogs of products and collecting bids to figure out the next actions. We enjoy planning and executing these projects more than we have the money to employ someone else do them, so we try to DIY when we can. Some tasks are just too big, too time consuming and/or need specialist expertise (e.g. wiring in an old house) for us to do ourselves. Hence the bids.

Like all smallish communities, the Island is full of people who sell their expertise in the various Trades: Plumbers, Electricians, Carpenters, Painter-Decorators, Landscapers, etc. There are a range of levels of experience and reliability for us to chose from, so the trick is finding a match for our expectations and requirements. Also in the usual—lovely!—way, finding the right people so far has been a series of lucky coincidences or connections.

Our plumber comes from Pete’s mum who has used him for years. He is diligent, goes to training and recertification courses every year to make sure he is up on all the latest regulations. Of course he is also slightly off-beat, in a charming way. Our painter-decorator lives next door; he’s been painting many of the houses on the street, plus he completely refinished the inside and outside of their house when they moved in, so we know and value his work. He also recommended the company that has replaced our tiny back door with lovely French doors opening onto the garden.

Our neighbour also recommended a carpenter who did some work for us before he retired and moved to Spain, which was unfortunate as we still have a long list of projects to do.

Our electrician comes to us via an amusing coincidence that happens in small communities. Pete’s brother-in-law was out cycling one weekend on the Island. He got a flat tyre. Since I am in the UK I need to spell tyre properly. I learnt my lesson early when Pete needed me to look up tyres in the car manual and I was flummoxed as to why I could not find anything listed under TIRE: oops! Very soon another cyclist came by and offered to help him fix the tyre and also to come round his nearby house for a cuppa.

They were chatting and somehow BIL mentioned that Pete was a geomorphologist, and the other chap exclaimed that his daughter was getting her PhD in that very same topic. Geomorphology is not a well-known discipline, and well-done you if you know what it is. They exchanged contact information and Pete and the daughter discovered they have many mutual colleagues and research interests. Of course they did. Long story winding up now: she is lovely, we have met with her many times—usually at a local pub—and Pete sees her at conferences now and again. Oh yes, the main point: her dad is the electrician on whom we now rely.

Episodes like this remind me that oftentimes the world shrinks to fit exactly what you need. The help you need is right here, if only you ask. (I’m thinking of Dumbledore’s line to Harry: “Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it”). When I feel disconnected to the place I live—which I do when I come back after a month away—I remind myself that we do have connections here. I need only ask for help, and it will be given, one way or another. Even if it is via a flat tyre.

Meantime, against my cynical belief that the garden is still months away from greening up, the temperatures have been slowly rising, and the garden slowly awakening. Although we missed the few daffodils that came and went whilst we were away, the forget-me-nots have popped up gleefully all over the garden, and a very few bluebells have shyly grown up around the plum tree.

Mostly we are seeing greenery finally unfurling and filling in over the brown ground cover. With alternating rain and sunshine, and no longer any frosts (fingers crossed), this week our plants seem to be hitting their groove. The fern outstretches its fronds almost in real time as we watch. I planted two dogwood trees a couple of years ago. We lost one last year, so I am talking kindly and whispering daily to the remaining one. So far it has been growing steadily rewarding me with its pale green leaves.

And for an initial spot of colour, the pinky mauve heuchera plants are waving their delicate stalks high above their broad leaves catching the rain.

Mostly though, the garden is patches of greenery dotting the still abundant gravel walkways and bark covering the soil. There is more green than last year, but still much to grow and fill in. We are in year two of what will probably be five years of growth to reach the garden of our imagination.

Which I suppose is also about the same rate at which we are nesting inside as well as building community in this location. We have the frame built in and our basic needs met. We know who to call to get important secondary tasks accomplished. Now we are working on filling in the parts that personalise our spaces and bring our own quirky sensibilities to our home.

All this nesting activity helps me focus on hope. Hope that the days will get warmer, that green will finally overtake brown as our baseline garden colour. Hope that our welcoming snug will shelter us from the bigger more chaotic world. Hope that this next burst of changes inside our house will once again help me feel more settled at home here. Just in time to set off to see a new place and fill my heart with family and friends again. So really, all is very, very good.

As always, I so appreciate you reading this! It is always fun to hear what you all have going on in your gardens and your lives. I know there are others who are nomadic or go back and forth to second homes or long travel journeys: do you have trouble adjusting to the new place or do you slot right in?

Meantime, enjoy the changing mid-April spring or autumn, depending on where you are. And wishing rains for those who need it, even us here in the UK.

See you in a couple of weeks!

xoxo Sabrina

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