I tremble with combined fear – and pleasurable anticipation! An unexpected £20 refund from B & Q allows me to indulge my creativity and imagination as far as the garden is concerned.
Long have I bemoaned its pitch-blackness at nights – though broken up, I have to be honest, with regular surges of the Moon and brightly twinkling kisses from Venus; but, when it comes to putting the bunny away of a night, I am all too likely to trip, to slither, to encroach upon her most personal space through dodgy footwork getting over the gate. Of torches, I am currently bereft, my last one, which might have condescended to illuminate a speck of dust so tiny was it, having flickered its last some days since.
So, off I go, full of excitement, and nervous tension, my skin all a-tremble at the thought of getting it wrong, judging badly, making a hideous reality out of the gorgeous patches and colourful rags of my tatterdemalion vision. The juddering reflects past reality, however: I am Mistress of my own Castle, and do not need to fear the disapproval and anger of anyone else in matters of taste. But the old habit of ducking my head to avoid the flare of fury, of shaking in an excess of terror, of freezing when iced with anger is hard to break – and I am semi-convinced I will make a mess of this.
There they are, in a box, six LED outdoor lights which correspond so exactly to my hopes and dreams that the trembling intensifies almost unbearably for a small moment. Two switches, they have, which means I can set them either to plain white -or to the wondrous kaleidoscope of colours which will not just light, but also warm and inspire, my lovely garden.
I put them together with care, though not with complete success; but, in the end, this does not matter because the little ones can rest on squared off abutments of fence, while the longer ones can burrow into the ground and shine their lights gloriously.
I plant them as tenderly as, two weeks ago, I did my snowdrops – now beginning to rise above the deepest Winter and put out little shoots of green edged with promising white – and then I have to wait, for these garden lights will not burst into flower until the darkness begins.
I immerse myself in other tasks, losing my tremble in sticking much-loved pictures to my walls, and dangling pretty pendants in various places throughout the house – and so I am caught unawares, bamboozled by the daylight sliding away, stunned by the sudden beautiful flicker of lights turning from pink to green to blue to red outside. I clap my hands in pleasure, for it is like seeing little fairies dancing magically upon my lawn and in the secret places by the growing foliage.
I dash out, laughing, so excited I am a-quiver once more; I rush into the smoothing navy of early evening, delight in the rounding of the nearly Full Moon, watch as each lantern takes on a different hue, no two the same at any point – and I point my mobile phone at the garden, take photos, try to capture this loveliness, even though I know that I cannot do the scene justice photographically.
Ah well! I can see it, enjoy it, tremble in its emotional message, know that I have chosen wisely, that I did not mess it up or do the wrong thing: Knowing that I can make decisions for myself and create an atmosphere, which reflects my taste, all around my new home.
A happy tremble! A good tremble! A healing tremble!