7 July 2005
An altogether simpler life
I’m rather ashamed to admit that today’s visit to the allotment was the first time in over ten days, in spite of my hopes for the end of last week. It was something of an overwhelming sight, but I’m heartened to report that I harvested a bumper crop of broad beans and the first of our early potatoes (Milva) which we are shortly to enjoy as we sit down to a very late dinner.
I’m delighted with the broad beans as they were sowed in February with freezing cold fingers and very little confidence. They look fabulous and my mouth is watering just thinking about them.
Part of my motivation for going down the plot tonight was my shock at the bombings in London today. That might seem like a strange leap to make, so I will explain.
Like so many others I was horrified, numbed and worried when I first heard the news. The very few people I know in London have reported back safe and sound and although this is a huge relief, as I have continued to follow the story through the day I have become more emotional. Bewildered. Angry. Worried.
The world seems bigger, more hostile. And I feel that bit more vulnerable. I’m not scared to go out or becoming paranoid. But I do feel more aware of how very powerless and insignificant I am in the face of events such as this; a truth that I (and others?) am usually much more comfortable remaining unaware of.
When the world feels like this, it seems all the more incredible and important that I can stick a seed in the ground in February and have beans on my plate in July. I made that happen so perhaps I’m not so very insignifcant and powerless after all. It may be flawed logic, but it’s soothing.
Comforting. Safe. Simple.
Filed under: Hard labour — Clare @ 8:36 pm
Your insignificant things are actually the threads that keep life together. And I think it’s the simple things of daily life that make you realise quite how wonderful and rich life is. When I say simple things, I mean real things that touch you each day. Just smiling at someone, growing a flower, drinking a glass of milk. When you forget the beauty in things like that, the world starts to seem a nastier, less fulfilling place.
(08.07.05 @ 11:57 am)
Thanks for your thoughts, Al. I think you’re right.
(10.07.05 @ 1:38 pm)