I have filled my home with plants. I just realised it when I looked up from the sofa and stared right at the newest addition. I don’t even know what type it is, but I do notice that it is surrounded by all sorts of other plants. I don’t even know if they’re overall doing well. If I’m taking care of them in the way they prefer. In one corner of the living room there’s a little greenhouse-box with a LED light and some herbs. The biggest con is that the box is a bit big and I would have rather wanted to place it in the kitchen (but alas! no space for it there). On the balcony, which needs a lot of fixing, there are even more flowers, a small birch tree in a pot and a strawberry plant resting on one of the lounge chairs.

Why do I do this?

I wonder if the plants are giving me some sense of calmness - or maybe it’s the challenge to keep them alive. Maybe I automatically connect cozy homes with plants. My mom and grandma always had a lot of plants around. On the other hand I also believe this habit to come from trying to convince myself I can very well have a flourishing home despite not living abroad.

On those days where summer is indeed beautiful in Reykjavík, it can be easy to get distracted by it. Almost every other day I can feel some longing for the sunshine. A life where the weather is not an imperative effect on people’s life and mental well-being.

The dream

Within me there has always been this dream to move to a warmer climate. For the longest of times this dream was specially connected to the city of Barcelona, which I used to visit regularily. Svavar and I went there on our first trip abroad together and it is probably quite appropriate that we will be going there in 10 days, at this point. Our first trip after the pandemic, and the first trip after Svavar broke his neck.