|1st strawberry of the season|
My strawberry plant is enjoying the heat and light that Spring has brought to my windows and her leaves are spreading wide to cover the developing fruit. I've always loved that about berry plants, how the leaves move to keep the fruit shaded.
My herbs are making progress too, slow and steady... a beautiful time for everything really!
To be fair though, my plants are in for a shock soon - tomorrow I take them to their new home (and mine) in DC. It's a short trip by car (relatively speaking) but the new space will be a bit different for them. All part of moving a magical house! I couldn't stand the thought of putting them in the back of a box truck though, hence why they're going early. They're also then out of the way, and the flurry of energy around the move won't impact them.
The part of moving that I really dislike more than any of it is the hectic nature of moving. First are the two weeks or so leading up to the move date, when you're decided what order to pack things in. Clothes? Books? When to pack the kitchen and bathroom... all of these things have reason to be out if you think about it long enough. So then comes the point where you just jump in and start packing everything and labeling boxes till all you can smell is Sharpie and cardboard and packing tape adhesive. Then you collapse, look around and realize that you haven't packed as much as you thought. (that's usually when my friends show up with pizza and wine.) So then you go back to logic, start packing smart and then look at the calendar. And panic again? No. That's when you go and touch your altar and remember - you've got this. You calm down and start back in. (and this is why we leave our altars up till the last moment!)
Second phase starts then: that week or so when you're half in the new place and half in the old place. You're sick of the old place, you long for the new place... and you still have things to do before it's all over. For me that starts this weekend - I'm taking my plants, the nigh unpackable things (that stuff that would take a whole box on its own and you just can't justify that) and my clothes, in every suitcase and duffel I own. So then next week, short though it is, I'll be living in a house of boxes and awaiting eagerly Saturday morning when I get the truck and then Saturday night when I pull that full truck into the driveway of the new house, some 4 hours away.
That week in between is a pivotal time for me. That is the time where I'll be letting go of the wards I have on the apartment, where I'll be cleaning away all traces of me and leaving behind a clean slate for the next person who will live there, whoever that person may be. I'll also be saying goodbye to a state that I called home for a mere year and a half. I'll miss the trees here, they're beautiful and abundant. But my tasks are clear - pack, pack, pack. Nothing is exempt. Everything goes in boxes, then into the marked outline on my living room floor, to make sure that it'll all fit in the truck. (yes, I do that. I've moved too many times misjudging how much room I needed that I don't do that anymore. I make sure.) It will also be my last days at my job, and there are things to wrap up there as well. Suffice to say, I'm not starting any projects now and things will be closed up in plenty of time but still - there is closure to be had there.
So I pay heed to the rituals of moving and look eagerly to the coming days of hectic energy knowing that when the dust settles and the boxes are moved I'll be in a new and exciting phase of my life.