Creating a safe haven

For the past 25 years, I've lived here in a very slow lane. I've often written about closing the gate on the outside world so we could remain oblivious to what was happening out there. On our side of the gate every day brought challenges on how to fix the soil, work with compost and think about how many chickens make the ideal flock. We planted fruit, herbs and vegetables, collected eggs and shared what we had with others. We were always less concerned with what was happening 'outside' because on our side of the gate, days were full of interesting and unusual projects and the promise of that continuing tomorrow.

 

 

 

I wrote about feeling safe and secure, of having time to enjoy what I'm doing and a growing appreciation of being able to learn traditional skills to help me carry out my work here. And sometimes I wrote about the quietness of my home, hearing the neighbourhood sounds, a train in the distance, welcoming migrating birds back each year. It was such a peaceful and enriching life.

 

 

My dish cloth and tea towel drawer. 

You may be surprised to learn I was quite chaotic when I was younger but over the years I discovered the benefits of being slower and more mindful. I mellowed a lot and relaxed into home life and what it gave me. Eventually, everything flowed and I had time to enjoy the process, ignore what was happening online or on TV and to make plans to live a more traditional and bespoke life. I smiled a lot, especially when I was alone.
 

 

It felt like that existence shattered when Hanno died and I wasn't sure if I would still feel that my home was a safe haven. Last week, I turned that corner. I've been working in my home every day since Hanno died. With no real plan or definite ideas about what the future holds for me, I've been establishing new routines, organising things to suit me and not 'us' and I slowly worked to put life back together, piece by piece.  I'm happy to tell you I feel I'm almost there. Of course, there is a deep sadness I feel every day and I doubt that will go but I also feel optimistic, strong and independent.

These pastries are the easiest you'll ever make. I'll show you how in a future post. 

 

 

And I think that for me, although I had those initial doubts about the veracity of my safe haven, I've proven that home does have the ability to nurture and restore. My home wrapped itself around me well before Hanno died. It welcomed me back every day I visited him and it made me feel comfortable and safe, even with him gone. Over the years I've put a lot into my home. I wanted it to look after us and everyone who visited us and it's safe to say now that it's paid me back for every repair we ever did here, every floor I moped, every toilet I cleaned, every painted wall, solar panel  and water tank we added.

 

 

Circa 1980s and 90s - a collection of old recipes I'd collected were among the many things that rode out of here in the rubbish bin.

 

This has been the worst year of my life but I'm pleased to say that even though I'll be 75 years old next April, I feel stronger and more determined than I ever have before. I have plans to paint, write, tend my garden, cook, rest and think out there, on the verandah, with Gracie. I don't know what I'll do tomorrow, but it will be very similar to what I did today because that is what life is all about - rituals, routines and repetition.  I'll cook food, make the bed, clean up, make a batch of laundry liquid, put things in place and whether these things are done for necessity or love, it is all a part of homemaking that over the years helped create a safe haven that was here when I needed it most.

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