Moving day came and went in a blur of Purpose. No time to stop and think, only time to do.
And when the caravan had been put on-site and plans had been presented, days spent rushing from here to there to visit Architects and Planners and men in suits that shook her hand and looked at the lowly with scorn in their eyes and she had wanted to get out of those places and back to more familiar territory, but the days had worn on with further meetings and breathless introductions and she felt the whole world must now know who she was and didn’t like it at all and still they kept coming – details, attention to detail, give us what we want to know, let us Help you….. – at the end of those awful days, one glorious evening when the sun had hung in the air all day but had resisted the urge to set until now and was dipping below the bridge so the shadows of the girders were projected onto the wall of the factory; she sat cross-legged on the roof of the tiny hut and regarded the area of land which had been entrusted to her.
The caravan looked tiny against the backdrop of the vast wall. She eyed the habitat with suspicion. It represented a far more ‘permanent’ feature than she was used to. The word itself was almost anathema. During the rest of the evening and into the darkness she played with the idea of Permanent, watching as the shadows raced up the wall.
The months passed quickly due to busy-hands. The plans as shown for the garden were simple and consisted of a lot of concrete paths that swirled around a central seating area. The rest of the space was filled with groups of trees. When finished it would have looked fine in any shopping mall anywhere in the world, but for here it was just – wrong. She went back to Arthur and demanded a few answers….
She discovered that some things are open to interpretaion. Some things can be negotiated. She learned that ‘People’, are not always right. And she found a little bit about what Love is in its many aspects.
In lifes’ inimitable way she discovered many other things as well, not least among them was the power of Worth.
With the passing of the seasons came other lessons – Nature is fickle.
The caravan had presented problems to her from the start. As the weeks went by it became an issue. At first she had been thrilled by the idea. A roof to call home. Then the doubts had set in – what is Home anyway? What do I need a Home for? Will I be able to run across town or even to the next city with it?... Isn’t a Home made up of more than one? How do I make a Home?
When the evenings grew darker the temperature took an early tumble and cold swept through the hut, still she slept in the hut and not the caravan, despite the oppulence of a sealed roof and a door that closes to keep out draughts. Other than use it as a kitchen she had loftily ignored its presence. She wanted to maintain that Hard-edged lifestyle to which she had become accustomed. She was, she thought, invulnerable to any further hardship than had already befallen her throughout her life, The simple truth being that she was caught in the trap of wanting something more than her pride would let her, but she pushed that thought away. Pride was NOT an option.
Years in the planning, months of arguments over the design, weeks spent over settlement over the cost (cheaper to do without concrete, better to let the land find it’s own paths.)
It was wild. Much use was made of wild flowers and grasses. A little judicious weeding would be required, much as a meadow should be mowed; Trees had been included because trees are needed. Besides, trees are good to look at, especially if lots of seating for the wayfareing folk to sit and gaze upon them is included. Water was provided by the canal, no need of water-features. Let the framing of the canal through arched panels provide the views. Let the railway take its place with its wild flowers showering the banked earth just before the bridge. Let the factory provide the shelter for fruit trees along the base and climbers to ease and shuffle their way upward and outward to smother the vast expanse of brick and provide a fitting green setting to this lost oasis in the midst of desolation…. And let the people come.
And when the caravan had been put on-site and plans had been presented, days spent rushing from here to there to visit Architects and Planners and men in suits that shook her hand and looked at the lowly with scorn in their eyes and she had wanted to get out of those places and back to more familiar territory, but the days had worn on with further meetings and breathless introductions and she felt the whole world must now know who she was and didn’t like it at all and still they kept coming – details, attention to detail, give us what we want to know, let us Help you….. – at the end of those awful days, one glorious evening when the sun had hung in the air all day but had resisted the urge to set until now and was dipping below the bridge so the shadows of the girders were projected onto the wall of the factory; she sat cross-legged on the roof of the tiny hut and regarded the area of land which had been entrusted to her.
The caravan looked tiny against the backdrop of the vast wall. She eyed the habitat with suspicion. It represented a far more ‘permanent’ feature than she was used to. The word itself was almost anathema. During the rest of the evening and into the darkness she played with the idea of Permanent, watching as the shadows raced up the wall.
The months passed quickly due to busy-hands. The plans as shown for the garden were simple and consisted of a lot of concrete paths that swirled around a central seating area. The rest of the space was filled with groups of trees. When finished it would have looked fine in any shopping mall anywhere in the world, but for here it was just – wrong. She went back to Arthur and demanded a few answers….
She discovered that some things are open to interpretaion. Some things can be negotiated. She learned that ‘People’, are not always right. And she found a little bit about what Love is in its many aspects.
In lifes’ inimitable way she discovered many other things as well, not least among them was the power of Worth.
With the passing of the seasons came other lessons – Nature is fickle.
The caravan had presented problems to her from the start. As the weeks went by it became an issue. At first she had been thrilled by the idea. A roof to call home. Then the doubts had set in – what is Home anyway? What do I need a Home for? Will I be able to run across town or even to the next city with it?... Isn’t a Home made up of more than one? How do I make a Home?
When the evenings grew darker the temperature took an early tumble and cold swept through the hut, still she slept in the hut and not the caravan, despite the oppulence of a sealed roof and a door that closes to keep out draughts. Other than use it as a kitchen she had loftily ignored its presence. She wanted to maintain that Hard-edged lifestyle to which she had become accustomed. She was, she thought, invulnerable to any further hardship than had already befallen her throughout her life, The simple truth being that she was caught in the trap of wanting something more than her pride would let her, but she pushed that thought away. Pride was NOT an option.
Years in the planning, months of arguments over the design, weeks spent over settlement over the cost (cheaper to do without concrete, better to let the land find it’s own paths.)
It was wild. Much use was made of wild flowers and grasses. A little judicious weeding would be required, much as a meadow should be mowed; Trees had been included because trees are needed. Besides, trees are good to look at, especially if lots of seating for the wayfareing folk to sit and gaze upon them is included. Water was provided by the canal, no need of water-features. Let the framing of the canal through arched panels provide the views. Let the railway take its place with its wild flowers showering the banked earth just before the bridge. Let the factory provide the shelter for fruit trees along the base and climbers to ease and shuffle their way upward and outward to smother the vast expanse of brick and provide a fitting green setting to this lost oasis in the midst of desolation…. And let the people come.
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