Wildflowers in Langenlois
I only managed to go on a walk outside the school gardens once while I was there. I’m not entirely sure any more why that was – not enough time? Weather? Just didn’t want to?
I do remember that the one time I went, it was a bit of a struggle to convince myself to leave the room. I always get stupidly insecure about going anywhere when I don’t know exactly where I’m going. Even though I know nobody is going to care, nobody is even going to notice I don’t know, they’ll just give me a polite nod and greeting (because Langenlois is a small town, so you do that with everyone), my brain always jumps to, “They’ll stare at me, and wonder who I am and where I’m going, and think I’m a stupid idiot for going up what will probably be a dead end and…”
Fortunately, I’ve learned to counter that brain-voice with one that calmly says, “Yeah, okay, brain, I hear you are worried about that. But you’re being stupid, that’s not going to happen, so I won’t listen to you.”
Most of the time it helps.
(And then there is a third voice in my brain, one that feels like someone leaning against a wall, arms crossed and watching with a sceptical expression on their face, that says, “You do realise your brain is not a separate person, right?”)
Lots and lots of vetches – I’m very fond of them. Partly because I just think they’re pretty, and partly because they remind me of being a child, making wreaths out of them to wear on my head. (And putting them on my brothers, too.)