Posts Tagged ‘new beginning’

Six months ago I posted this entry, as I was made redundant from my old company. Well, it’s been a long half year, and I’ve spent a lot of time going up to the Summer House and spending time looking out at a snowy garden doing bugger-all except trawling the internet for jobs and sending off application after application.


However, yesterday I went for an interview and they called me in the afternoon to ask when I can start, so on Monday at 9AM I will start my new job! It’s perhaps not very sexy being an accounts receivable clerk in a public educational institution, but it’s the kind of job I am good at and can enjoy. (I enjoy things I’m good at, and nobody beats me when it comes to a nice spread sheet…)


It means, of course, that there will be less time to spend in the garden this spring than feared. (Because let’s face it, unemployment sucks, even if it’s good for the garden!) This, however, is just something to manage somehow. After all, the garden has always been intended as a weekend / holiday garden, so it must be able to look good – or at least decent – with only a couple of days’ attention every month. Even in spring.

Seedlings etc. will have to be grown in the apartment anyway, so the garden will not be completely neglected. And even though the Flâneur Husband pretended to be annoyed that there were seed trays in every window in the apartment last spring, he secretly admitted to me that he quite liked seeing the little plants grow – especially since they’d be adorning the garden in the summer. And when I get my dahlia tubers back from their winter holiday Chez Mum – it sounds so much ritzier than “in my Mum’s shed – I might also start them off in pots in the apartment so they can get a good start before I expose them to the slugs.

So even though it’s one day early I’ve changed the header from the winter image to the spring image, and I thought I’d end this entry with the un-cropped version.

Spring beauty

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Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,

And over the mice in the barley sheaves;

Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,

And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.


The hour of the waning of love has beset us,

And weary and worn are our sad souls now;

Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,

With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.

(W.B. Yeats)

All right, so it’s not autumn yet. Not ’till tomorrow… But there are goodbyes to be said, and this poem popped into my head as a suitable set of words to describe my current mood.

I got laid off yesterday, and am now on what some companies refer to as “garden leave“. I’ve loved working in my old company, but I’ve also for quite some time been looking for a new job, so it’s a melancholy feeling, mixed with a sense of relief. It’s definitely not all bad, though of course it’s certainly not all good, either.

In short, it is what it is.

It was all very civilised, as these things should be, so I guess it qualifies for the term “amicable divorce”; I shall be missed and I shall miss my old colleagues, but such is life.

So next week I will be gardening! On garden leave. Maybe this means that this year I can actually get the garden ready for winter? -Something I failed miserably at last year, partly due to business and partly due to wet weather in the few weekends I made it up to the garden, and which had knock-on effects that lasted well into spring.

The lawn needs mowing, the annex (with the storage room, the workshop/shed and the spare bedroom) needs painting and of course a good weeding is never amiss, so I can definitely keep myself busy while I begin to work out what I want to do besides gardening.

Autumn is the time when you look back and see what worked and what didn’t work; which plants were stars and which were failures; what do you want more of, what do you want less of (SLUGS!); what should be played a bit different, tweaked a little, next year. And so I will begin looking at the garden and my CV with the same set of analysing eyes, seeing what I enjoyed and what I didn’t and then taking it from there. After all, in a garden there is always that much-vaunted term “Next Year”, and the same goes for work. There will be another chance at creating something that will be even better, even more satisfying, even more life-enhancing.

(I hope.)

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