The potting shed has a long and interesting history, dating back to 2013. She began as an anniversary shed, a gift to my husband and myself, two intrepid gardeners with two different mindsets. I dreamed of a Country Living type space, and my husband envisioned something utilitarian, where grass seed was stored in twisted sacks and muddy tools could be hung on the wall.
All winter, I dreamed about that shed. The dreaming was almost a barometer of healing, a sign that I was returning to my old self, because surely our thoughts can become action. True, we'd had a string of harsh years, and I'd lost my place. My husband had been ill. Our younger child returned home. When my beloved Yorkies passed away, that was it. I just shut down. By April of 2016, I knocked cobwebs off the potting shed -- and off myself, too. I made a feeble attempt to nest. But I had long, long way to go. My dear friend, Mary, at Home Is Where the Boat Is sent me a huge, magical goodie box, which gave me the inspiration I'd been looking for. But life kept throwing curve balls, and it took another five months before I could think about homemaking. In some ways, I had given up on the potting shed. Then, life calmed down, and I had a few minutes to putter around the yard. Two minutes turned into two hours. I remembered what I'd forgotten: happy moments won't fall into my lap. I have to make them happen. With a firm resolve, I carved out time to look for joy.
It was in my own backyard.
Since this is a his/her shed, I wanted to keep some of the garden equipment handy, though I moved all of the fertilizers and noxious things into the garage. They have their own spot, and my husband actually finds it more convenient to grab things. He likes it so much, he keeps it neat, which was a wonderful surprise. Now that the icky weed killers and sharp trimmers were gone, the shed slowly came into her own.
Won't you come in and visit?
Gladys, the neighborhood cat, keeps me company.
The old cart had spent a brief tenure in the Underporch.
Tools went into an old lard can.
On my way to the shed, I pulled a stray vine. It looks much better in the shed than growing in the trellis garden.
For me, joy is found in nesting. I can't really explain it. But if you're here, and you're reading this, I have an idea that you totally understand.