Spring in the Yard and Other Facts of Life
A Personal Essay with Curated Nature Photography
I am a habitually nice person. It is in my nature.
Even when people are not nice to me, I am nice to them. Be kind, I say to everyone, often as I endure through and hide the sadness in my heart. I had this thought in my mind as I was uploading my phone photos taken in my yard to this post, just after I politely told my upstairs neighbors that I had to move my car closer to their parking spaces because my car was sinking in the mud in the yard where I park my car. They could have cared less. I wondered why I even bothered. I was afraid I was encroaching on their space. They haven’t cared when they have partied late at night.
The current state of yard parking is something that I personally can’t do anything about and I recognize that alerting my landlord to this issue will get no response.
He’s no longer interested in me living here in this downstairs half house that I have rented from him since October 2018. In late January he sent me a Notice to Quit letter, which means, move out or get evicted. He gave me 60 days to find a new place to live so he can turn his property into seasonal rentals. He sent me a notice to quit, I tell him I am praying for his wife who has cancer. I’m habitually nice.
Finding an affordable place to live is easier said than done in the midst of record high rents and homelessness in my area. All of this is truly a drag, and I’m hoping and praying that my next best place to live appears on the horizon before the worst case scenario happens with this place.
Life is a struggle right now. Every day, I work at finding a bright spot amidst the uncertainty.
Today’s bright spot came in the form of tulip and daffodil bulbs popping up in the freshly exposed earth due to the warmer temperatures that have finally graced my little corner of the world.
My first reaction to the bulb sprouts was of course pure joy! As a lifelong gardener moments like these are much awaited and often cause for little celebrations, including exclamations of joy and happiness.
“Oh,” I exclaimed aloud!
I knew the sprouts were there under the snow, I thought to myself. In fact, I just wrote about that here.
The warmer weather in recent days has gotten me out of the house and walking with an old friend who lives nearby.
It has been so good to feel the ground below my feet as I walked a steady pace while watching for patches of slippery snow still on the ground, and taking small breaks to stretch a little and ease the latest winter aches and pains in my lower back and left hip. Ugh, that old trochanteric bursitis is kicking up again. Walking will help, I think — and maybe a little physical therapy if the chiropractor and I can’t get it to ease.
This is life now at 68 years old. The struggles are real. A single mother who raised a daughter all alone after her father passed away just before her third birthday, I’ve lived a fascinating life, worked hard as a three time entrepreneur, but I never got rich. And, I never got to save money for my retirement. So, here I am waiting for the luck of the draw, which otherwise translates into an opening in affordable senior housing for which there is a very long wait, and I’ve been waiting for almost 6 years now.
I thought I was maybe going to finally get in recently and I told my landlord just 5 days before he sent me the notice to quit that I was in the process of getting screened for the senior housing in town in late January. Now it is March and no word. I am less hopeful.
You can’t make this stuff up really — my life right now.
This will be my last Spring here in this yard. Soon after my exclamation of joy when I found the tulips springing up in the ground, I realized that soon I would be saying goodby to these gardens, my Pandemic Gardens, that gave me so much joy and so many wonderful photographs to remember them by.
I have no timeline as of yet for my impending move.
All if this is out of my hands and when all is said and done and I have left this domain, I will try to make better sense of it all, for myself, and for you my readers, who are interested in knowing why I am leaving and where I am going. I’ve mentioned somethings on Notes in recent weeks. The saga continues here and look forward to finding the right place to make a new nest in. I love to nest.
My nest, my home is everything to me.
The idea that I might possibly be leaving here without a nest of my own weighs heavy on me right now. The system was broken long before the current attempts at tearing it all down started in late January. I have to say, as woman who has spent the majority her life living on the edge poverty, this is all so very personal to me, the senseless, cruel acts of pulling the rug out from under the most vulnerable among us.
I don’t feel nearly as strong or tenacious as I used to when I was younger. I know there is still a spark of it and that spark might light a strong fire if necessary, but right now I am being directed to wait.
And so wait, I do… And in the meantime, I will continue being kind, because that is my nature.
I hope you will like, share and restack this personal essay, and perhaps refer a friend. These are all ways you can support my work here. I have no doubt that there are readers who can relate to some or all of my story.
There are many seniors here in the area where I live and around the country right now, who find themselves in the same mess as me, waiting for affordable senior housing to have an opening. As I said above, the system is broken.
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Wishing you all a blessed and beautiful day today…
Remember to breathe when things get stressful and as always, be kind to one another. Kindness is everything.
As I like to say, “Be in the moment and go with the flow.”
Stay tuned for new posts…
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Thank you for the kindness of this moving post, Pamela. I really like the reflection in the puddle photo and hope that the refracted light helps lead to a new and improved home for you. A new garden for you, a new Spring.
What an honest essay, Pamela. “Be kind, I say to everyone, often as I endure through and hide the sadness in my heart.” That was powerful to read. Things will go your way.
Your kindness is so apparent here on Substack, it permeates every interaction I have with you. Life can be so turbulent. You will find more certainty as to your next place, and I hope you are able to garden and make it into a nest. At least you always find solace in nature. Wishing you nothing but positivity and good things.