A new season - an old problem

We never had much of a winter this year. At least it never got really cold and we never had snow. I’m really thankful for that I can’t cope when my car gets stuck on the drive and I feel trapped. It reminds me too much of those very early days, not coping, falling apart – days best forgotten but I know I never will entirely…

I much prefer spring with the daffodils blooming and the garden coming to life.

But as everything starts to grow again a fear starts to rise, a task lies ahead which fills me with dread. 

I know that all too soon the bright sunnier days combined with the inevitable wet weather will make the grass spring up.

We have no guinea pigs to nibble at it now, although I’d need a whole army of creatures to munch its way round my lawn.

There’s at least half an acre to mow but we do have a sit on mower so it really shouldn’t be a huge problem.

But every year I dread the day I have to start the tractor for the first time. It’s a reminder I am on my own, this is not supposed to be my job, I never wanted it to be. It’s the silly things that push you over the edge and make you crumble.

(A friend bought me this card year for last year’s anniversary just because it amused her.

She didn’t know that Andrew had a special cap which said “lawnmower operator”. He used to wear it when he cut the grass, looking a bit like this picture – although he never rode around shirtless. I still have the cap – it’s the only thing I have left which smells of him!)

Recently I’ve been waking up early, worried thoughts running through my head, what if this year the lawnmower doesn’t start, what if it gets stuck in the wet ground, what if it runs out of fuel, what if… what if…

My thoughts become more and more irrational as they invariably do in the small hours.

I’ve been putting it off but the house is on the market and I have to keep on top of things. Everything needs to look great for a perspective buyer. I can’t have a single thing to put them off and jeopardise a sale – see how easily my thoughts spiral.

As I said the other day my best friend is away this week and her husband is usually the man I call on to rescue me. My friend laughs as I flutter my eyelashes doing my best damsel in distress routine. I texted her to say I probably needed her husband’s assistance once more on their return.

Then I thought this is ridiculous!

I have cut the lawn before – this is now the fourth summer since Andrew died and the lawn mower has never been in better shape.

It had a new battery fitted last year and has been serviced. Andrew never took such good care of it but then he would have been able to manage if it broke down, well at least he wouldn’t have broken down alongside it in tears. He might have sworn a bit a lot though!

So with fresh resolve and a quick prayer I unlocked the garage, checked for fuel and started the engine.

Once I got going I wondered yet again why I worry so much. Why I let the little things paralyse me. I quite enjoy riding around making swirly patterns in the grass. 

And now I am certain everything is in working order I will once again pass the job over to oldest son who is more than capable of filling his father’s shoes. You can see from the photo above I only did the top lawn - his task is to finish the job tomorrow.

As I said we didn’t really have a winter but over those months I’ve stored up all my fears and worries. The unravelling threads have knotted like a tight ball in my stomach.

I doubt myself and my abilities; it’s probably why I’ve stopped blogging so much too. Confidence is a very fragile thing and I’m not quite sure what knocked it off balance somewhere at the start of the year.

But cutting the grass today by myself is a step forward, the house is on the market and things will change. 

Maybe slower than I’d sometimes like but perhaps in the end things are moving as fast as I can cope with!

Mixed up thoughts and tumbled treasure

I’ve had enough of winter; I’ve certainly had enough of snow and wild wet days.

I long for sunshine, for daffodils and bluebells in the garden, splashes of colour to brighten my world.

Now I know it’s still early in the year but only a few weeks ago there was a tantalising promise that spring was on its way, buds were forming, hardy varieties of flowers unfurled in anticipation.

Then it snowed again. Oh not much and all gone by tea time but enough in the mornings to get me flustered and panicky. 

I feel ready to move on and make changes and snow in particular makes me feel trapped and slows down my plans!

My blue painted fingernails tap out an impatient rhythm even now in between my typing. Despite coming up with a three year plan of staying put I want to know what happens next in my story.

A chance meeting and conversation with our vicar only churned up my thoughts further as we discussed what God’s plans for me might look like. I foolishly worry there is no overlap at all and that God is going to send me where I don’t want to go!

As I drove home past the sea it was rough and wild, a high tide churning, swirling, agitating, a metaphor for the way I was feeling.

By Friday morning the storms had died down and I decided to take a walk on the beach to clear my thoughts.

Crunching on the pebbles and splashing on the wet smooth sand I walked, I cried, I pondered, hoping all the while to find a definitive answer written in the sand or maybe a cloud shaped like a giant arrow pointing the direction I should take.

Actually all I found was this 

I loaded my pockets with seaglass and broken pottery. Once these things were whole and useful, now they are shattered and seemingly worthless.

But the sea has taken them and tumbled them, smoothing the raw edges to create something beautiful.

I’ve no idea what I will really “do” with it all, especially as I already have a huge collection, but to me it is still treasure.

I like to think that God picks up the broken pieces he sees and collects them in his pocket. 

The people who are broken, smashed, feeling just a little out of sorts because let’s face it that’s where I am at the moment. I’m not depressed, I’m no longer in the deepest part of my grief, I’m just a little blue, wondering and pondering what my next steps might be and sometimes getting a little bit anxious.

Often my thoughts run ahead of themselves and maybe I need to snow to slow me down, I need the rainy days to make my stop and think.

But here are some positive things I have done to move forward this week.

• I have seen my kitchen plans and they are good
• I have bought two new tyres for my car
• I've changed the desktop picture on my laptop to my treasure picture above, instead of our last family photo
• I have changed my relationship status on Facebook from Widowed to BLANK

Next week the forecast remains unsettled with more chance of snow but spring will come soon – won’t it?

if a picture paints a thousand words...

I walked around the garden in the snow and took these photos this morning.

I was going to write about how much I am missing Andrew at the moment. The snow has triggered all those feelings of helplessness again.

I wanted to tell you that yesterday I cried but I can't find the right words and I don't want to plunge once more under the icy depths of grief.

But I need to share, I need you to know that some feelings never go away.

However I suspect you already know that grief NEVER really ends. It lasts a lifetime and not just a season.

There will always be days as cold as ice.

But the sunlight make things sparkle....

...and there is always hope for a brighter future if you look hard enough!

Marching on...

There are pros and cons to every season. March is a time of bright sunshine one minute and dark stormy rain clouds the next. If you are very lucky you might just catch a rainbow in between!

One of things I like best about this time of year is how the garden is starting to come alive. Waking from its winter sleep, tingling with possibility.

The demure shy snowdrops are surrendering to the tall proud daffodils. This is when I love my huge garden the most. I have an abundance of flowers to give away.

The other day I stepped outside and crunched my way through the frost sparkled grass to pick a few stalks for my friend. Just half a dozen tied with ribbon make a thoughtful gift, at least I hope so.

These are the pluses of the garden this time of year, the negative is that the weeds are growing too and the grass, it won’t be long before I will have to attempt starting the lawnmower and begin cutting it again. Those summer jobs that become such a burden despite the help of oldest son.

But for now I will dwell on the positives, the lush green daffodils emerging daily and the fountain like leaves of the bluebells already there waiting in the wings to appear. The camellia is already in bloom and other buds curled tight are expectantly full of potential.

And once more as I type the wind has rustled up the rain or could it be hail tap tapping on my window?

Spring is coming, not far off, marching on and with it a hope for the future, a new direction maybe or perhaps I will still be here to give away next year’s daffodils – only time will tell…