I've been feeling depressed again since around Christmas. Don't get me wrong, Christmas was great and I had a lovely time. But I ran out of my dried frog pills (antidepressant tablets) and I thought "I don't really need them anymore. I have been feeling fine". Big mistake. I got back on them about a month ago and I am starting to perk up. It's really grim to feel like you are in a black pit the whole time and nothing, absolutely nothing at all gives you the least little bit of joy at all.
This winter hasn't helped. It has been extraordinarily bleak and long. It's not just my perception; statistically this has been the hardest UK winter in my lifetime. We are only a week away from the spring equinox but there are scarcely any signs of spring at all. A few crocuses and snowdrops are starting to bloom, and I saw some lambs this morning whilst I was walking the dog. But no daffodils are flowering in my area yet and the trees are not in bud. The forsythia and ribes are not out. It feels like early February, not mid-March.
But I got loads of house and garden plants for Mothers' Day and Eleanor helped me re-plant all the hanging baskets with pansies, primroses and dwarf narcissi. I still have some plants left but I ran out of potting compost. I will get some more tomorrow on the way home from school and replant some of the containers. I also have some seeds I want to sow indoors.
It feels good to get my hands in dirt, in amongst roots and bulbs, and smell the green, vital, earthy scent. It is good to plant things - it always feels to me like a powerful act of faith. You can not plant things unless you have hope for the future. You have to expect that a frail stem with two small leaves is going to grow into a large and beautiful plant. Solipsists do not do gardening.