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Sitting under the greengage tree

I live in the clouds.

Within each one of us there lies a fluctuating pot of elements, and, whoosh, mine overflows with air. I’m magnetised by flight, high altitudes, speed, and windswept beaches, and, as with the way of the world, the things we subconsciously crave can occasionally do us more harm than good.

An excess of one element, in anything, is damaging – be it air, fire, water, earth or space. After all, that’s why natural disasters, arguments, extreme loneliness and panic attacks take place, they’re a manifestation of imbalance.

These past couple of weeks I’ve been digging up an antidote to my airiness, immersing myself in the earthy qualities of our family home. Every day I’ve been picking, pulling and pruning the finest organic fruit, vegetables and flowers to be found in Fife, and I’ve found a muddy bliss.

Apples for their crunch.
Beetroot for the surprise of pink wee.
Blueberries to make my porridge purple.
Cabbage to keep Dad happy.
Courgettes to feel their softness.
Dahlias to make Mum smile.
Greengages because they give me special powers.
Mint for when the coffee doesn’t work.
Mulberries because they sound like luxury.
Oregano for its mellow nature.
Potatoes to comfort.
Plums because I like the colour.
Roses for red hot love.
Spinach for an extra five breaths in headstand.
Sweetcorn to justify buying dental floss.
Tomatoes for Italian nostalgia.
Thyme for the hope it might buy me some.

Thank you earth, I’m feeling grounded again.

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