When I was a boy I decided early on that four was my favourite number and therefore it was my lucky number. Logically I concluded that forty four was the most incredible age. Two lucky fours ‘44’, divisible by four - so much four power! That was probably around the time my dad turned forty and I would have been four years old. Perhaps it was even on his forty fourth birthday I thought about this, with all those lucky fours everywhere. Being forty four was so far into the future it was untouchable, inconceivable to be that age.
This week on November the fifth it was my forty fourth birthday. I’d expected reaching forty four would be ‘a moment’ for me but actually the day sort of passed me by. Chris and I were up in North Yorkshire with my family to celebrate mine and my mum’s birthday - we share the same day - and see the village fireworks. We were also there to visit my dad who recently turned eighty, as we have been regularly for the last couple of months.
We’re visiting because dad’s been diagnosed with an untreatable oesophageal cancer. For the last couple of years he’s been unable to swallow and despite all the tests, the cancer wasn’t picked up until he couldn’t breathe and needed a tracheotomy. Needless to say this has thrown his and our lives into a new light. Forty four doesn’t seem such a lucky age anymore. All I care about is how he and my family feel but it has also been every emotion to me. My emotions are volatile, changing from one to another without warning. I’m devastated and sad, and yet filled with love and pride for him and what he’s done for us.
We are spending lots of time together visiting art galleries and things we all like doing. There aren’t many accessible things a short distance from North Yorkshire for someone who can’t eat or drink but we’re hunting them out.
My parents and sister live two hours north from us in Swaledale, the miles aren’t long but the trip is slowed by the many moorland hills and valleys in-between Hebden Bridge and there. It is one of the most beautiful drives, filled with meadows, moor, wildlife and right now, autumn colour and incredible light shows. I can feel a future watercolour project burning in the back of mind emerging from these drives.
Today, back here above Hebden Bridge, it looks to be a day with some dry spells and I’ve decided the best birthday present I can give myself this year, as is true most years, is the rest of the day off in the garden. While we were with my family a little box of bulbs arrived back at home containing Tulipa praestans ‘Shogun’, Tulipa hageri ‘Little Beauty’ and some extra Narcissus ‘Thalia’. I’m going to plant these out and divide a few plants, our Pulmonaria and Geums to keep spreading the colour.
My dad showed me how to divide plants and grow cuttings from his cacti when I was around the age of four. Helped the three of us set up our little veg patches with colourful plastic spade and fork sets. Almost impossible to imagine those moments blossoming into a life anchored in gardens.
Gardening keeps me level. My feelings can be a deep well that if I take the lid off can risk drowning me. Gardening offers something to hold onto. The world today is full of unimaginable horror, lurching toward division and hate, but day-to-day I see caring communities and a kindness in everyone, it is still there.
Gardening is inherently about care and planning for a better future. For my forty fourth year I will continue to choose that path, the path of kindness.
“We’re like sun and rainy weather
Sometimes we’re a hit together
Me and I
Gloomy moods and inspiration
We’re a funny combination
Me and I”
- Abba
