My new home is having an effect on me. I love it. I like to preen over it, make it pretty.
The garden especially is satisfying. I think about it, and read about different sort of plants I could have. I trim the ones I have and water and have even fertilized them.
One friend was amazed, “This is a side of you I’ve never seen!” she said.
Hm. Good point. I’ve not been such a homebody. I’m usually reading or thinking or being away, looking at things.
But this home has been a big change. It makes me happy, and I am always full of projects I want to do. People tell me that happens when you become a homeowner. But the condo, my first owned home, did not have that effect on me.
Probably because it did not have a garden.
That rung a bell for me. I remember a book that talked about leaving adventures behind to take care of your garden.
Candide by Voltaire, it is. A short little story I’ve never forgotten, mostly because of the pope’s daughter who only had one bun because her set was divided by cannibals.
It was this book, meant to be a philosophical treatise, that talks about tending your garden. I read it again, because I am so into my garden right now.
It is more profound than I remembered, having read it the first time as an assigment for my very first college literature class. That was a great class!
But, now that I am a bit older, I can see his point.
Candide roamed the world in search of happiness, basically. And, I, for a long time, have been hitting the streets to check outwhat the world has to offer.
In the end, Candide realizes that you make your own happiness. That you cultivate it, you tend it, and it grows or dies based on what you do.
I guess I’ve come to some similar conclusions. I am happy to be in a place tha tis furthe away from the “streets”. My suburban town has lanes, rather than streets.
And, I am ready to take charge of my own happiness. I am fairly confident that I’ll be able to grow it myself. There will be troubles, but I will be ale to weather them and keep my happiness well-rooted.
I must cultivate my garden.