At The Wheel

Adrenaline and adventure drove the first two weeks here. That adrenaline is gone. Despite the fact my parents-in-law were in town for a week, providing company and opportunities to explore our new locale, I have been feeling very sorry for myself the last few days. I've felt alone, missing my communities of friends, coworkers, gardeners, and neighbors. I left behind a house and garden I loved, and right now having a garden again seems out of reach. I've put my name on the community garden wait list. I'm #23. Real estate is very expensive around here, so I don't know when or where we'll buy another home and another yard of our own. Meanwhile, the course of my professional future is murky at best. I know where I'll be working in one month but have no idea where I'll be working in eight months. I miss certainty and rhythm. As a result of all of this, I've had a few teary pity-parties.

This week, I began to take the helm. I found a nursery that will soon become part of my regular stomping grounds. I went to my first class at the local pottery studio and instantly found people with whom I could easily talk. I began to tell people what I want to make out of my life here—to feed a garden and a community and to write—and talking to people leads somewhere. Silence and self-pity lead nowhere, just circling in on themselves, pulling powerfully down, a slow drain of stagnant water.

Because yesterday the sun was bright but not too warm and the hills were calling, Indiana and I hiked the trails of the City of Belmont Open Space, a hike that will soon become a habit. The views are expansive, the trails edged with the good kind of wild, and the hills are steep enough to toughen up this ass of mine. I've needed to kick my own ass.

I'm beginning to feel better.

When my in-laws were here last week, we visited the docks in Sausalito. The houseboats of Sausalito have no plots of land. They have a dock, decks, sun, and people who clearly love plants. These gardens are funny and beautiful, land or no land.

The deck out front of our rental home will be my yard. I have sun and love. I can make my garden here. Now, it's time for me to focus on the community building and writing. Anyone know of a job for someone who can garden, teach, write, and teach how to garden and write?


Michelle said…
I too would be indulging in a major pity party if I were in your situation, it has to be heart wrenching to go from your beautiful garden to gardening on a deck. I don't know if you could squeeze a volunteer commitment into your schedule, but you might look into the San Mateo/SF Master Gardener program, you could get your fill of teaching about gardening there, although it won't pay the rent... And any time you are in the Monterey area you can get your hands dirty in my garden. :-)
Michelle said…
I just thought of another place where you could rub elbows with some real garden talent - Filoli.
Christina said…
Thanks, Michelle! I can't wait for Filoli to open in February. I'll probably visit the first week it's open. I can't commit to volunteering quite yet, because I'm not sure what's going to happen with work. I'll be working at a school starting in mid-February until June, but I may have to start a job search again if a longer term job doesn't open up for me at this school. Uncertainty is hard. I'll definitely hit you up sometime when I feel like I need a run to Monterey. Sounds fun.
Kate said…
Welcome to your new home.
I'm happily anticipating your new garden on a deck. Going from patios to gardens to decks to balconies to porches then back to gardens myself, I think you will be just fine. You seem like you have the stuff of a persistent gardener. Hang in there baby.
Aimee said…
Glad to hear you've settled in and are adjusting to your new surroundings. Change is hard I know. Sending best wishes from The View : )

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