fyr.io

Tomatoes and anthropomorphising buildings

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We've needed to replace our cess pool - a buried and sealed container for our sewage - for years. This has been a source of contention and stress for various reasons, but I am happy and relieved to be able to finally say: it is done.

What this has allowed us to do is concentrate somewhat on making the garden less exploded-bomb-dead-plants and more things-are-alive-garden. We would use it as a bit of a dumping ground and not care for its appearance, due to the very destructive work we knew would happen at some point in the future. However! That has now happened, and whilst we have very little grass left alive by the diggers, dump trucks and other large vehicles (we eagerly await the grass seed to grow) we have finally been able to commit some time and energy into the garden.

The Royal We, that is, because in reality it's been about 77.41% my wife and 22% the kid. I have dug up some very survival-oriented weeds, but that's about it.

We now have an almost-free-of-trash garden! Including neater edges, an extra metre of space along a fence thanks to my valiant weed-removal efforts, and a little pond to attract some water-based nature! We still have a long way to go, but we noticed already that it has changed from a somewhat disappointing, disgusting and disused area to one that is relatively clean and, most importantly, embodies hope of what it can one day become.

Due to the ever-forward-looking spirit of hope for the future combined with the knowledge that these big groundworks should be finished by summer, in the spring we (royal, of course) planted some fruit and vegetables. It's something we attempt most years. Perhaps, historically, the plants pick up on our dejected nature when in the garden, or maybe we just subconsciously put less effort in, because in previous years we haven't had much luck at all. This year, however, is different.

We have lettuce, cucumbers, strawberries, sugar snap peas, peppers, potatos, carrots (though not many) and tomatoes. And oh my, the tomatoes. These tomato plants, of which there are about a dozen, have all far outgrown the greenhouse within which they reside. They're so big that we couldn't get them out of the door without breaking them, so there they stay. Whilst only a single one of the fruits has riped enough to eat, we have... I'm going to conservatively say hundreds of tomatoes growing. About 10 or so are not-green, and I can't wait to eat them. As is tradition, that first ripe tomato went to the kid, who has been very helpful indeed with the planting, watering, and general caretaking.

Some of the many, many tomatoes growing in our greenhouse. This bunch is mostly green, but some are just turning orange and red.

Whilst we were clearing the garden after the week-long installation of the new water treatment plant, my wife had a thought which has stuck with me since she voiced it.

As we were cleaning the windows and soffit of dirt, dust and half a decade of accumulated detritus she raised the point that we had sort of neglected the outward appearance of the house over the last few years. With the destructive work we knew we needed, this is understandable, but now that the work is done, the home deserves some love. She described the home as being like an old being who needed some looking after, who needed some help keeping tidy. She anthropomorphised the house. And it immediately changed my perspective of what I was doing. I didn't really want to clean the soffit, and then... I did. So I cleaned them. All of them. And we've been out there every day feasible (insert general grumbling about climate change and UK weather here) doing things. Digging, removing, cleaning. Fixing. Polishing. Making the house respected, after it being neglected for decades by the previous owner and sort-of-neglected-outside by us. I see a future, not too distant, where we're actually proud of it.

So now, whenever I think about the house, it's from the perspective of taking care of a being that, by the nature of it being a building without intelligence, limbs, nor opposable thumbs, cannot look after itself. This is just my way of tricking myself into turning our home from a building site we live in into something to be proud of, and I'm okay with that.

It's gonna take a while. We'll get there. And we'll eat so many damn tomatoes on the way.