I Re-Glaze My Greenhouse

I did not expect to be moved to tears by my greenhouse, but there I was, this sunny afternoon, at my allotment, phoning my Longest-Serving Friend.

    'It sounds like you're crying,' she said, her voice full of concern.

    'I am,' I replied. 'Please don't worry - they're tears of joy.'

I explained how I had replaced the panes of glass broken by Storm Darragh. She was delighted for me and felt tearful too. Sometimes, it takes a Longest-Serving Friend to understand the significance of a minor event as major.

To explain - here's some of the mess Darragh made:

Being a poet and thinker, it was hard for me not to understand this damage as metaphor, especially as it happened around my birthday, and especially as other greenhouses all around stood firm through the high winds. 

Today, I reinstated the ability of my greenhouse to be a greenhouse by replacing three panels in the door, two at the sides. It was when I slid and clipped the first side panel in, that I felt emotion rise in me: a rush of relief. The sensation was unexpected, and the Doubter inside said, 'It could still go wrong, Liz.'

This inner voice is the voice which questions whether I can manage things by myself. Wouldn't it have been better to ask for help? I'm not averse to collaboration. A friend made a significant contribution by transporting the glass in his estate car but, apart from that kindness, I'd managed to make the correct measurements, buy the right fittings, and position the panels (without breaking them or cutting my fingers) all by myself. 

My acts of independence may be moderate, aided by YouTube videos, and fine sunny weather; but I reaffirmed for myself today that they hold a deep significance. This has something to do with freedom, autonomy, womanhood, space to learn, and a growing confidence in my physical, embodied self. In turn, this all is something of a metaphor for my ability to mend, to create for myself a house of light and growth.