A few acres. Dryish for now, but promise of full, leafy, green trees as the seasons renew. There’s room for a vegetable garden, and we’re building it. There’s a lemon tree, and persimmon trees spotted around, further from the deck I stand on. I need to learn more about the way they grow, but wager they’ve been here longer than I have and already have a sure rhythm.
The deck is bigger than we need, but we'll make good use of it. We need to oil the wood before much else goes on it though. I picture it – an outdoor table, the old, burnt orange couch from mum’s, a cosy cushion or two. Citronella. That big, mediterranean pot with the hairline crack from mum’s too – if we can move it. I’ll hang fairy lights, and gather some herbs to grow by the kitchen window.
I can’t really see the inside of the house. It feels less important. But there are big windows, and wooden beams. I know I’ll find the spaces that catch the morning sun, and those will be a kind of daily bliss.
I snap back and sit instantly with an uneasy feeling. Where was this place in my head? Where did those visions come from? Are they my own, or did I construct them from somewhere else? Sets of light and sprawling landscape on instagram, in old shots of summer on 35mm, from movies delivered with a thick, rose-coloured filter?
Are my visions my own, or a patchwork of what I see others with – real or not?
Social media isn’t really anyone’s friend, is it. Sometimes I worry I’m not manifesting what I truly want, without letting what others are doing seer into me.
But I can have a vegetable garden, space, light. These things are up for grabs in a million different iterations, I remind myself.
Someone once told me to envision how you feel in the future you want for yourself. Don’t focus on a particular person or place or lay out all the steps you took to get there. Don’t annotate the specifics. Just centre in on the way you feel. Fulfilled, content, creative. Perhaps supported, respected, loved, free, grateful, or strong.
Easier said than done, but something to strive for, I think.
I go back to those citrus trees, cool grass under my feet. It smells of spring, already hotter than expected. The sun hits my face and I am full up on the present moment. I am in my own place.
