I spent Midsummer at our allotment garden cottage. It sounds idyllic, but in reality the cottage is a neglected summer cabin that has tilted sideways after the chimney, built in the 1960s, began to sink. It will need quite a lot of love, work, and new exterior cladding before we can start calling it idyllic.
And yet, simply sitting in the old garden swing, badly in need of oiling, eating our packed snacks, proves again and again that the choice has been worth every euro and every hour of work. The garden, overflowing with raspberry bushes, has been left untouched for years. Huge invasive shrubs and rotten fences are waiting for a gardener to arrive. It is a haven of peace.
The whole allotment garden area, with its endless shorelines, is a paradise, full of secret, private gardens that look as if they have been lifted from the pages of a fairytale, tucked behind arched hawthorn hedge gates. The cottage could just as easily be a stressful work camp, but it all comes down to attitude. Among allotment gardeners, there is a relaxed “this can be done tomorrow, or next week, or next summer” mentality, and it is doing me a world of good.
On Midsummer Eve morning, I made it to a yoga class. We twisted ourselves into sun salutations and downward-facing dogs, each with our own degree of success. After ten minutes of huffing and puffing, it was clear that I need to add more mobility work and stretching to my exercise routine.
At the end, we lay down on our mats and focused on our breathing and on the clouds drifting across the sky. I closed my eyes, breathed in and out, and felt my body relax. My mind calmed down too. In a gentle voice, the instructor reminded us that there was no rush to get anywhere, and in my mind, I thanked her for those exact words.
I kept thinking about that pleasant moment throughout Midsummer. I tried to remember the last time I had relaxed so completely. I have been holding on far too tightly all spring, because the demands never stop and I am simply trying to keep up with them. I want, at least sometimes, to get something finished, even though most of the time it feels as if I am running several steps behind everything. The longer you keep running, the harder it becomes to stop.
I do not think my experience is particularly unique. I suspect I am in the same boat as many others, rowing exhaustedly toward the summer holidays. We think that if we can just manage one more week, things will get easier. And once we finally deal with all the backlog during the holiday, then surely things will get easier. And when the cottage renovation is over someday, then things will really get easier.
But they may not. There is always something new, because getting things finished is a paradox in itself. The only right moment to take care of yourself, to stop, to leave something undone, to postpone it, to let go, to surrender, to lie down on the grass and turn your gaze toward the clouds, is right now. You do not necessarily need to get yourself an allotment garden cottage to remind you of this, but it can help.
The writer is an inexperienced wannabe gardener who is learning this summer to gaze up at the sky. Allotment garden life can be followed on Instagram at @vattulanjanka.