Gather with Grace Alexander

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Shifting seasons

We have woken this morning out of British Summer Time, although winter, so counter-intuitively, does not start until 21 December. We are firmly in the in between season. Early autumn has charm and novelty and a nip in the air. This bit of autumn is a little more dank. November is not a fun month. 

 

The only solution in my mind is to take a note out of the Scandinavian book and to invest in comfort. But before I can fully indulge in the blankets and warmth that this horrendous weather requires, my mind has turned to another matter. Space. No, not that sort of space, I am appalled by the billionaires colonising (and I use that word advisedly) the rest of the universe as if we could be trusted with anyone else’s planet when we have destroyed our own. But the spaciousness of my home. 

 

I can’t pretend the two things aren’t related though. The consumerism and capitalism that is at the core of what we need to change to slow this damage is represented in stuff. My field has stuff, much of it plastic. All those pots and seed trays and detritus of a busy season. I keep the studio as plastic free as I can and I generally succeed, but the paper. And the cottage. I won’t even tell you about the cottage. 

 

And so before I embrace rest and hibernation, there is one more task to do. Creating space. As much as can be reused will be, and I am sending my mother on charity shop drop offs on a weekly basis. The field is now done, thanks to Naomi, and I strongly recommend asking round your local garden centres for pot recycling.

 

These last few years have felt hard. They have felt heavy. So much stuckness. I am ready to shed and to be freer.

 

What I am not doing, is being too tidy with the plants. What seed heads I have are being left standing. The leaves that are not being used to make leaf mould are being left where they are, although, Sue of Nant-y-Bedd suggests just putting leaves on the beds in autumn and letting the worms do the work. 

 

You see? It can be easy if you let it. Light touch. Nature will heal if we give it space. Fingers crossed for COP26…

Damson Farm