When a person reaches their mid-to-late 40s, a strange process begins. Dinner time gets earlier, greenhouses get purchased, pinafores become attractive, and then later, the switch completely flips and one is wearing sensible shoes while coveting everything in the Lakeland catalog.
My parents did some boring-ass stuff in their 50s, and I can remember thinking that I’d never do those banal things because I had cooler stuff to be getting on with. Now? Now I’m driving to the garden centre every other day in search of new ideas and things to plant. My current obsession is roses (only because the peony flowering season is entirely too short) and I am unable to find enough spaces to plant them, and there is always one more I want.
The oddest part of all of this is that I’m enjoying it – really enjoying it. I’ve become so much easier to please and this had led to a happier and more peaceful existence.