Mr Plow

The last few weeks I have been getting into gardening, something I have always avoided, wherever possible. My wife used to be in charge of the garden, occasionally pointing to a spot and telling me to dig, so I never found it much fun. After she’d gone I didn’t touch the garden for years, apart from tending my apple and pear trees, labour should bear fruit, I always thought. It grew into a jungle of weeds, some 10 foot high, and I kind of liked it, apart from the nettles which were taller than me, ugh.

My dad just couldn’t understand that, me living amidst a jungle of weeds, so when he saw it one day in the height of summer he offered to send his gardener round to "sort it out". I wasn’t really bothered, the overgrown and unkempt look seemed to suit me (!) but I accepted his gracious offer. So the gardener and his friend came round one day with chain saws and hacked everything down. It looked so bare, but considerably bigger. That was a few years ago and I still never bothered doing anything with the garden, though tried to keep the weeds down, one way or another.

Now I have more time to myself I’ve found that pottering in the gardening can actually be quite therapeutic, and now I’m not afraid to go out of the house dressed, there is something very lovely about watering your freshly planted pretty flowers, in a flowing skirt and summery top like something out of a Timotei commercial. It’s not all pretty flowers and flowing skirts though, this week I hired a rotovator, in an attempt at creating some sort of lawn area, and spent a day ploughing up the space at the bottom of my garden where the jungle of weeds used to be. My arms are still aching, but I’m sure it will be worth it. I’ve got the grass seed down now and just have to wait for it to grow. I should go and chuck some water on it actually; it only ever rains when you don’t want it to…

My hands are fucked, as rough as sandpaper, and my nails have been ground down to almost nothing, despite wearing thick gloves, but hopefully all the hard work is done now and I can concentrate on watering my flowers and looking like the girl in the Timotei ad.

I’m so lucky to live here, it really is beautiful, and the relaxing, calming effect I get from sitting under the pear tree enjoying the view on a peaceful summer’s evening is just amazing. Hopefully I can have picnics on the lawn soon!

I’ve been venturing out into town dressed over the last couple of weeks, something I’ve mostly avoided so far in case I bump into anyone I know, though I doubt if they would recognise me. But as I’ll be going full-time in the near future I wanted to see how it felt going out in my home town. It feels different. When you live there and you know that people are going to start to recognise you, get to know you as the local tranny, it is less anonymous than going out in a place where people will probably never see you again. So at first I was a little nervous, something I’ve never really felt since my first time out, over a year ago. But I seemed to blend in well so I soon found my confidence. It turns out that most of the shop assistants here aren’t constantly miserable, it’s just that they only chat to women shoppers, or trannies perhaps. A nice change that, though I must work more on my voice so I can feel more confident about chatting back.

Tomorrow I will be another year older, groan, I could do without that really, but at least I live now, I know how to live, rather than just going through the motions. Mum offered to take me for dinner en femme, so of course I jumped at the chance of a girly night out. She came round yesterday and said perhaps we should go somewhere out of town. I said I don’t mind if we bump into anyone, people will have to know soon anyway, she said, "I know, but it’s my first time". Bless. I’ll be gentle with her. It’s quite special being able to go out with my mum like that, and she’s very brave to offer, but of course it will be no big deal.

It’s the little things though that make a difference, simple pleasures, gardening, eating out… as long as I can be myself.

And no more ploughing, it’s not a job for a lady.

xx