We’re nine days into the month of Mărțișor. I prepared a traditional red and white bouquet for you. Doing something twice counts as a tradition around here.
I let myself be consumed by the news the first couple of days of the war in Ukraine. I was thinking of Moldova a lot, which was selfish, but human. I snapped out of it because I had to go gardening. Touch the earth and be under the sky.
I’m now working as a volunteer with Bloom Sheffield, a community flower garden for women. I love flowers but never really got my hands dirty. Now I get to do that and take photos as well. 🤌
I’m excited to see what the garden will look like in a few months. For now, it’s a lot of clearing weeds, potting plants and making raised beds.
I caught myself following the same pattern of hiding behind the camera instead of socializing. I found it funny and endearing but I should really keep that for Dear Padua only ☺️
A bunch of links:
The death of sex. It’s not what you think, it’s better. I love everything Haley writes.
Becoming news-resilient. “(…) Assuming you're not reading this in an active war zone, it doesn't follow that you need to mentally inhabit those stories, all day long. It doesn't make you a better person – and it doesn't make life any easier for Ukrainian refugees – to spend hour upon hour marinating in precisely those narratives over which you can exert the least influence.
In short: I think it really is OK to shift your centre of psychological gravity back from the news cycle to the world around you.”The Age of Houseplants. Indoor plants as aspirational culture.
Off to eat at a lousy buffet place and watch The Batman,
Alina
I adore the photos of the tulips. The lighting, richness of the red, that little red steak... beautiful.