I came home late Saturday night after spending two weeks caring for my father at his home. It was an awkward two weeks. Instead of it simply being about providing care and continuity for my dad, an Alzheimer’s sufferer, it was complicated by also house sitting for my mother, taking care of her year old Labradoodle, my 33 week old pregnancy, the separation from my family, and the fallout with them therein.
Packing up the car to return home, I realised that I was bringing back two rabbits, nine baby chicks, one large bag of chick feed, bale of hay, bale of straw, three trays of pea plants, four trays of assorted lettuce, two of tomatoes, basil, okra, kale and Echinacea, and a large bag of groceries along with my own paraphernalia of computer, cds, astrology books, unfinished reports, a completed superman cape for my four year old, my toothbrush and a few clothes. What is wrong with me! Am I so insecure that I have to create a mini farm wherever I live? What is this bizarre need to nurture growing things at all time? Is it the Capricornian requirement to be achieving at all costs, compounded with my fourth house sun?
Answers on a postcard please.