As free as the wind blows...as free as the grass grows...
The wind and rain/feng shui around my place has been a bit chaotic of late, but I'm happy to report that no longer will I be inhabiting a damp, moldy office under the stairs as part of a leaky building that is disguised as a school...when I do my assessments of sites, permaculture tells me it's in a good zone or not.
I'm out of it now, but maybe the next person will have an easier ride of it than I did. Maybe I was just there to set it all up so someone else could take the credit. Nevermind. They can have all the plants is all.
The birds nest ferns, the cymbidiums, the spider plants, the begonias, donkey tails, the hoya , zygocactus, mother in law tongue, prayer plant and Bob the praying mantis. I took home the streptocarpus and the african violet.
I felt a bit dispirited, how could I let someone micromanage me like that? I went outside, of which was once former Japanese garden and climbed up on the playground and cried. The ground had been astroturfed and turned into an urban jungle, and the students sat their exams quietly plotting to take over the world when they got out and grew up.
The school was next to the pharmaceutical company, and not far from my former landscaping company, and overlooked the creek where Maurice Gee wrote his gruesome Loomis stories. So much for Eco-city. It had been turned into an exam factory/diploma mill. I wasn't even sure that examinations were a good thing for young hopefuls. Why couldn't they just have a fun quiz night instead? Instead, it just made me feel like a failure and a drop out. I had done the wrong thing again, disobeyed a teacher, and gone my own way.
The ground was shaky beneath my feet. I went home and sat for a while. I ended up back at Mitre 10, buying raffle items. One staff member said she might come to Garden Club night. So I made at least one friend there. Wasn't that what school was for, making friends? Apparently not.
Once again, I was the brainy one nobody liked cos she was so brainy. I took my MLIS home again and waited for inspiration to strike, like the axe at the root of a tree.
