gardening

If there's one reason I'm a trailer sailor dude it would have to be gardening. Ive just spent an hour trimming back a white mulberry, chatoot. This has opened the canopy of the garden up for the winter and given the goats a good feed. 

It has been a while since I've regularly gardened, but its there everyday for me to see, touch, smell and vibe with, right by my kitchen's door. A large window in the new gentleman's lounge is flooded with green light.

 Large leaves in dappled sun are nourishing for my soul. I love being near the garden. Yes, of course the sea is beautiful and vast and rewarding for sailors, but I could not go too long without being grounded in the garden. 

Perhaps when I do sail wide I can visit not gardens or pockets of rainforest? I already intend to visit old churches when I sail. Not the red brick churches of the post war era, the older ones, made from cool sandstone, fretting away in damp corners and covered in mosses. The ones where stainglass sends dapples of colour over honey coloured pews and a mouse fart can shatter the disturbing silence. 

I'll avoid marinas, wharfs and popular "anchorages", choosing creeks, rivers and shoalwater coves instead. 

I doubt I'll have need of a "fifty pound Bruce" (huk taw) like Kreitzschmer. I'll have handy little ones that stow easily and I can walk ashore, or plop over the stern as we near the beach. My neighbours will be shady trees, peaceful birds and lapping waters. When I enter port I'll sail past the big white yachts and head towards dark corners upstream, under low bridges, over shoals, away from the hubbub racket and advertising hoardings. Away from the glossy land sharks with their maws out for a fee of some kind.