The Garden Next to the Bus Depot
Hi my friend,
Do you have a place that
feels like a cloud?
Where the air feels softer,
where your shoulders drop
without you noticing…
Where the noise of the world
fades into the background?
For me, that place is
our country house.
It's nestled between a pale
Soviet-style block building
and a sleepy little town's
bus depot.
I know…
Not exactly a scene
from a fairytale.
And yet…
this place holds magic.
In spring,
the lilacs bloom in
marshmallow shades of purple,
and the air smells like something
you want to bottle up forever.
Then summer arrives,
and our garden begins
to sing.
Hundreds of frogs tune their
voices beside our pond,
while bumblebees roll joyfully
from one flower to
the next.
Everything feels so alive…
so full.
Even when autumn comes
and the gold spills across every leaf,
it still feels enchanted.
Despite the cold weather guiding us
to stay indoors.
You see, for years,
I dreamed of this house
being somewhere quieter…
tucked deep in a forest,
or perched on a wild,
windy shore.
Anywhere
where a bus depot
wouldn't stare at me
while I'm having breakfast
on the terrace.
But over time,
I've come to realize that maybe
its imperfect setting is what
makes this place
so human.
Because isn't that life?
We don't always get to choose
the view outside our window…
But we do get to plant
the garden.
So instead of fighting what
I couldn't control,
I turned toward what
I could.
If I couldn't stop the trucks
and buses from passing by,
I could at least grow
a different view.
That's how we got
our Pines.
Small at first.
But now, five years later,
they meet me like old friends…
softly swaying their tall
greetings in the wind.
With each season,
the garden becomes more
of what we imagined.
And the world beyond the fence
feels a little farther away.
Would I prefer a more
peaceful setting?
Of course.
But I cannot tear down
the neighbouring buildings
and reroute the roads.
I'm working
with what I have.
And slowly…
my reality is shifting.
So my friend,
it's okay if things aren't
quite how you wished
they'd be.
They can still be beautiful.
They can still hold magic.
Not everything is yours to change.
But some things are.
So plant something anyway.
With love,
Elina
