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With the loss of my greenhouse on 30 March after a sudden 150km windstorm and not being at home, what blooms survived, ever so resilient, reminded me of what matters when lost in thought of what if I would have… to avoid such destruction.

So, after I cried and cleaned up the shard remains of “my office”, lamented the battered tomatoes and the squashed strawberries, I then came to the conclusion- I simply cannot let all the seedling and plants, once encased in a glass house go unattended.

Counting my blessings...

One can never wage war against mother nature but be guardian of it and am now clearing patches of land to find my cherished plants a new home in the soil outside where they belong. Working my way around nature to blend in and find the core balance I once had with her as when I first purchased this property with no comfortable extras… in this case a greenhouse, has been challenging yet rewarding.

Closing out the month of April and welcoming the longer and warmer dry days of May, planning and rebuilding will happen. I am now relishing in the glory of working outdoors and creating my collage of wild, healing and heritage blooms mixed with aromatic herbs I selfishly cared for and hid in the greenhouse for my exclusive pleasure whilst having a constant reminder of HAVE TO USE SUNSCREEN alarm setting on my mobile.

In attempts to identify unmarked sprouts and carefully calculating the yield of what vegetables will survive a pot luck plot will be created... this should be interesting.

The wind storm altering my then comfortable setting and routine pushing me into the wild, I am managing everyday with all its surprises- creepy crawlies and rocky soil, sudden changes in wind and temperatures not to mention the passing of soaking storms we often get in these ancient Galician lands.

My new joy will be having the occasional passerby or lost pilgrim walking the way of Saint James who stumble upon my hidden garden amongst the crops greet me with a smile.

With this change of routine, my day to day has also been altered. First and foremost, I am a mother of a pre-teen whose social calendar is wicked compared to my generation´s “let´s make it up as we go along” semi unstructured up bringing. Everything after Candela's sports training, after school activities, meeting with friends in the villa and OUR time together to reconnect at the end of the week is secondary. Thus, my Artist Life is, once again, in slow-mode.

My mind races with100 visions and ideas per minute I barely have time to note on paper. My trusted loom that has felt every emotion I could possibly have and/ or not control- good and bad, for the past several years sits silent most days now. My paint brushes covered in cobwebs on a shelf and paint tucked away in a wooden crate under my workbench now wait to stain a canvas.

All large projects I have planned are now shelved when barely finding time for smaller pieces and private commissions but this is only temporary. I will resume in its entirety once the season changes into long dark days of winter when the crops have been harvested and the soil sleeps until March.

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