As I've mentioned before, gardening itself is an altogether different beastie. I don't know where to start and find it bewildering and yes, stressful. There's a few of you green fingered lot out there who I expect will find that hard to believe. Giving up a patch of ground that I was responsible for tending when I moved into the motorhome isn't a hardship at all. It was a cause of celebration. Instead of the scrubby piece of lawn I used to fret over, a much better outside space that's less than a minute from my door is available
a belted one on the Madison River in Yellowstone I've never seen the English variety. I did lie once and say that I'd spotted the one that another person was pointing out to me. Perhaps that fibbing will bugger things up from a Karma perspective and the consequence will be that I won't clap eyes on one in this lifetime!
The fact that it's not my job to maintain the boundary fence and stop it from getting overgrown makes my joy complete. No matter that it's not for my exclusive use. It's lovely to share it with other people and often their soggy dogs as well. Just because I don't own this land that I'm now using as my garden doesn't mean that I enjoy it less. As I've said before, with ownership comes responsibility. Shedding some of that is one of the things that is making this experiment in living with less such a successful one.