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Last year’s attempt to do better

To create a theatre play – characters, scenes, dialogue – or should I say – vision, meaning, perspective – takes a horrendous amount of puzzling, I should know, having been a playwright most of my professional life, with various levels of succes and the intelligible despair that comes with every failure. Yet, on the bigger stage, the one I’m still discovering bit by bit by downsizing securely and focus on details not seen before but indicating a liberating truth, desirable when you get stuck in the middle of nowhere during a pandemic and still praise yourself lucky considering, the bewildering couldn’t be more significant and fulfilling.

Trying to get a grip on a workload I’ve been avoiding, weeding, cleaning, repairing, the annoying stuff we all like to envision for tomorrow but not really for today, I’ve again been stunned by the theatrics that arose from last year’s attempt to do better, lurking in between the overgrowth.

What we see and what we use our eyes for, turns out to be such a small part of what is actually going on and if you catch me in a good mood, I would definitely lecture you about this very hopeful manifestation that allows us to infinitely grow. Unfolding this year’s vegetable garden at Les Pierres thus turns into a trip down memory lane, meticulously exposing last years dreams and what has become of them, a tale of mistakes being made, over and over again, carving out a recurrence of events as silly as it is meaningful and necessary.

Having the freedom to bemuse what we need with what we want and fancy, has created a personal signature in our veggie garden, equally beautiful and ridiculous. For weeks Ivory has been telling me our arugula is flourishing and I should not bring home the bought stuff, pointless because I don’t remember putting these seeds in so have not cataloged their existence, as if nature would allow me to ignore.

Our current crop is the result of my epic laziness, having promised last year to turn those seedpods into Rucolino, a flavoured Italian liqueur, without ever following up. In my defense, it accounts for a beautiful blooming sight, waving in the wind. And pretty salads, because all of this beauty is edible too.

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