Sunday, July 22, 2012

Letting Go

We are putting our house up for sale.

Not a decision taken lightly, but we need to "downsize" a little to save money, and it will also be a chance to get a house in a slightly quieter location as we do get a huge volume of traffic rushing past our front garden, day and night. Although my rational mind accepts and acknowledges the validity of our decision, my heart does not. I find myself  wandering round the house, my hands gently touching the things I see, and then invariably heading towards the kitchen door.

Opening it is almost like opening  the door to a different world. My beautiful back garden is filled with the hum of contented bees as they buzz around the plants and herbs, many of which are in flower at the moment. The smell of the garden is indescribably wonderful; early in the morning when the dew is still present as it potentiates the heady smell of the lavender, honeysuckle and raspberries growing in close proximity to each other. If I brush past the bay tree, the heavy scent of the leaves is almost intoxicating, and further up the garden is my beloved white rose tree which smells so fragrantly of Turkish Delight and never fails to bring a smile to my face.

I shall miss it so very much. The sadness I feel is so strong it produces a physical pain. Every day brings a procession of varied birds to the feeding station visible from the window, who like the shelter the garden provides as well as the fruit and berries for their delectation. It will take many years to build a garden similar to this one, many years of relative barrenness as the trees, plants and shrubs I hope and plan to plant will slowly, so slowly, grow their way to maturity.

I wish I did not have this inbuilt resistance to change, this inability to live for the moment, enjoy and then let go gracefully and embrace what new things may lie in store.

I will not mourn the house, but I will mourn for the loss of my precious garden and its living things. Even the creep-crawlies.
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11 comments:

Athanasia said...

Oh Elizabeth! I can feel your heartache from here. God bless you and your family. While you know all will be well, it is still hard, isn't it? Peace to you.

debd said...

I feel your heartache too. I wish it could be easier... but having just gone through it I cannot offer that promise. But, you're not alone. May God's will be done

Elizabeth @ The Garden Window said...

Thank you both so much. I need to focus on what is God's will for us at this stage, not my will - but it is so hard to do sometimes !

elizabeth said...

this is not easy; hugs and love...

Anonymous said...

Sad as it will be to lose all you have strived for, love,remember you are in God's hands and He will be with you in this, as in everything else. After all, it might be worth swapping even your beautiful garden for some well-deserved peace in your home. Mary

Mimi said...

It is difficult indeed. Hugs.

s-p said...

Ugh! We have a 6 bedroom house with only one child left home who is planning on getting her own place in the fall. The prospect of downsizing is both enticing and daunting. I love my house, our yard, my office space, our quiet cul de sac... there's a lot of memories attached. And getting rid of 20+ years of collected stuff and moving just doesn't seem worth it to me right now.

melindasmailbox said...

It will go with you, the way a lost loved one does. There was a house like this in my early childhood that is still with me. Even after so many years, the action in books that I read seems to take place there. Details of the house are still clear. Dust on the drive, carpet in the livingroom, our clubhouse in the big garage out behind the house, gardens and swings, bridal veil growing along the fence. I am so sorry for your loss. Great big HUG.

Anastasia Theodoridis said...

Very hard. Much sympathy from here.

I hope that in your new home you'll make a wonderful new garden, perhaps using snippings or even transplants from your current one.

margaret said...

Your garden is the one I dream of. Mine is so wretchedly sterile and bare and I don't quite know what to do with it. I keep reading this and thinking of plum trees and bay trees and feeling quite upset. I hope you can move somewhere with at least some sort of stocked garden (not something like mine!) to provide a basis for for the new garden that you will plant, even if it will take years. You do know you can take cuttings of rose trees? I didn't know until it was too late for my mother's big orangey-red one but you should start looking into it now. As Anastasia says, you can take some of your lovely garden with you - and should I think. Meanwhile I selfishly request your gardener's prayers for mine. When Fr Grumpy comes back we will make a raised bed along the back fence of the shingle horror and fill it with honeysuckle and lavender for the bees.

Ian Climacus said...

Hugs, prayers and love from Down Under.