Uprooting: From the Caribbean to the Countryside – Finding Home in an English Garden

I have had enough fire; it has driven me for so long. What I have needed is a wellspring, a source of a cool perpetual flow of life-giving substance, like this stream. To

The same protective layer necessary to ward off hurt now impeding my ability to accept help, to access connection.

I threw off my attachment to old beliefs and opened my mind to imaginative possibilities.

perennial kale that seems really quite attractive, near-neon tubers of oca, and amusing but hopefully useful walking onion.

I was not stuck, that I only needed to take the first step and I would find the path I had not known that I was seeking laid out before me.

When I take my limited body and offer some of my life to the garden, the garden reciprocates with life of its own. When I offer my love to the garden, the garden loves me back.

thinking about planting perennial edibles feels like a permanent move towards growing a nourishing home.

Every dark dissociation, every shut off and unexamined repression, numbs not only our pain but also our capacity to feel joy. Our ability to love, to transcend, to feel bliss and awe, to imagine the beautiful new worlds that will free us. Part-numbed, wholly weakened, in our desperate attempts to avoid the pain we fear that we cannot bear, we lock

I have fallen into the trap of prioritising disposable style over lasting substance.