Leaving my garden behind
Film photo shot on Yashica 635 - Ilford HP5 by Sam Stewart Photography
The fragility of renting meant that there had always been an undercurrent of worry that it could be taken away from us at any moment. But we had been living here for nearly 9 years which had given us the time to really put down our roots and establish our lives, home and garden and this had possibly let us fall into a false sense of security. It has been the only home that our daughter Aaru has known, moving in when she was just 16 months old, a place where both her and I have grown together.
It is here that Sam and I have shared some of our most challenging years, anchored to this place with the weight of our grief. While going through the grieving process of recurrent miscarriages, I tried to keep both my hands and my mind busy by planning and planting out the garden. The stone cottage was surrounded by a once beautiful garden filled with old world roses that had lay fallow for years because of various renters passing through. Garden edges blurred where the lawn had found its way into the beds and dense webs of weeds smothered any soil that could be considered a potential planting spot.
After much clearing and nourishing the soil, sowing of seeds and nestling in new seedlings, the days started to lengthen and the gardens began to overflow with both flowers and vegetables. Huge tangles of sweetpeas filling the air with their deliciously sweet, spicy scent. Baskets laden with colorful, shapely heirloom tomatoes that concentrated the taste of summer into a single mouthful. Branches hanging heavy with the most delicious ruby red plums and handfuls of herbs to brighten each meal.
Precious, open ended days were spent at home with Aaru as she grew and began to explore the world outside. Hours stretched before us pottering around, tiny fingers clasping fistfuls of flowers. I tentatively picked up my husband Sam’s camera and began trying to capture these precious moments and harvests. It was continuing this through each season, documenting the ebbs and flows of the light and the harvests that put me on the path to where I am now. A place where plants and art have become a central and integral part of my life, where my creativity is so closely interwoven with seasons that it has become the way that I see and make sense of the world around me.
Yet amongst all the beauty, every year came with so many challenges - earwigs, birds, rabbits, bugs and the challenges of growing in a mountain climate; fleeting summers with cold overnight temperatures and searing hot days. Although sometimes it felt like it was one step forward and two steps back, it was still always worth it for that jug of flowers sitting on the dining table.
When the news came through, I quietly stepped back from the garden as I began to disconnect from this place and so explains the radio silence from my end. A late frost scorched each & every delicate blossom which meant no fruit or nuts for us this year. A barren season which felt almost as if the garden knew that our time together was coming to an end. Special plants have been potted up until they find a new spot at our new home, while others have been left to hopefully bring joy to the next gardener.
We were lucky enough to have the gift of time to find a suitable place to move and time to tenderly settle the parts of me that are forever entwined with this piece of land. From here I am going to take a moment to settle into our new home and rhythms and then I will return. There are sparks of ideas which are being held close and carefully tended until I have the space to bring them to life. Take care and I will return again soon.
