Being locked down at home couldn’t have come at both a better and a worse time. The glorious spring sunshine and warmer days make me long for walks through our small part of London, ducking through dappled sunlight in the local cemetery, or for adventures down into the center of the city, drinking pints on chilly pavements. My worry is that, by the time it’s safe to return to whatever normality looks like, we’ll have lost spring, and summer with it.
That said, spring makes for the ideal time to get to grips with the garden we’re so lucky to have. We’ve been sowing seeds like mad, filling up propagators in anticipation of the moment we can transfer them to our raised beds. Each day I water the seedlings, willing them on with probably a little more love than is strictly necessary. I have been slowing down, and my focus has changed, and it feels good to be so emotionally invested in life—the same goes for Susan, my sourdough starter—in a time when everything else is painfully still.
There’s so much happening that eludes our control. Acting in a way that brings about life and color and energy feels like the most important thing I could be doing with my time, of which I now have plenty. Seeing blackbirds and pigeons and bees busying our garden is wonderful, and a similar energy can be achieved with a window box, or a few potted plants on a windowsill, too. There’s something to be said for slowing down to watch the charming wiggle of a bee on a flower.
Words + PhotoLily Waite