There is a constant internal debate, or sometimes flat-out war, between my live-out-of-a-backpack, somewhere-new-every-season, never-let-anything-become-routine self, and my plant-a-garden, have-an-address, sew and knit and book-bind self. The various factions win at various points in my life, though mostly I just thrive in that state of flux and indecision that keeps me from setting traditional career goals or having a remotely linear life.
Currently, I've opted to feed the put-down-roots side of me, though let me tell you- that nomadic streak hollers loud and hard when I look at friend's photos, or flip through a travel magazine. There's this little part of me that panics when I think of living in the same place for more than a few months, AND at the same address that's on my driver's license (been 9 years since that happened....).
Meanwhile, in the roots department, I have roughly 113 containers of seedlings and plants on a tiny patch of cracked concrete, and yesterday I started another 32 pots of seeds. On nearly every surface of the cramped airstream that I currently call home is a house plant of one variety or another. It would seem that the gardener side of me has been starved for far too long....
So while I continue to quell my gypsy heart, I am very much looking forward to having a place for a spell. A place with a garden, and a place to set up my sewing machine, and spread out my paper, and get to work.
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