Sometimes, I get overwhelmed and that’s normal. I’ve spent a lot of quality time in my garden recently, but there’s still a long way to go to get back to organisation.

A whole year slipped by with no pruning or weeding done. Bark mulch was never ordered. We stopped spraying the driveway five years ago so it’s a big job in itself to keep it clear of weeds.

Every little step we can take to help return biodiversity to our gardens and farmland is important. I consider my decisions in my garden just as impactful as the bigger ones made on the farm. So there I was looking at a green drive that would take days and weeks to clear.

Let it all out...

I let my thoughts run away, which is not good news. Who will care about this garden when I’m gone? The truth is nobody will, because I’m the only gardener in the block.

Nature will claim it all back. Briars will flourish and my lovely flowering plants will slowly die. Isn’t that the most awful thought for a gardener to have? I began to cry and as I did, I stretched out and allowed myself to roll in under a tree and let it all out.

After a few minutes, I dried my eyes, felt a bit silly and pulled myself into the weeding position again. A lot of the stuff we do is quite futile in the big scheme of things. Why do we bother to have gardens or keep our houses and farmyards tidy? Does it matter at all? It must count because it gives a sense of purpose and satisfaction that’s necessary for me to remain sane, functional, needed and content.

When I’m just after chemotherapy, I have no energy and feel quite useless for the first week. I become a dead-heading, wandering old lady.

I gradually get my mojo back and I work hard at forgetting the beast I’m fighting and I live my beautiful life.

In that particular meltdown moment, Tim was milking. He didn’t need to know I was having a crisis.

I contemplated going into Colm and Elaine. I’d have alarmed them. Why would I do that? I could have rung Philip or Aileen, Julie or David. I’d have upset them too.

They’d have got in their cars and come to me. Diarmuid hates to see me sick or upset. He constantly checks on me asking, “Are you OK Mum? Are you feeling well today?”

The truth is that cry was cathartic in itself. It’s OK to have a good cry. It can get rid of a lot of tension. It allows me to be true to myself and acknowledge that I am scared of what the future holds. Sometimes the brave face has to crack to allow a sort of inner peace to develop and the endurance to begin again.

So, if someone you love or you yourself are getting on with things and living your normal life until something makes you crack, don’t get alarmed. Draw a line under it and move on.

Embrace the new year

Life, and living it, is so very beautiful. A rain droplet on a petal, bees on the lavender, a little dunnock beside me on the stone wall, a sunrise, a sunset, a full moon, a nudge from a heifer or my dog Lola’s nose under my arm for a rub are all reminders of the beauty around me.

Of course, the absolute heart-melter is a little hand in mine. Sometimes, I feel the tears build as my love for Ricky and Peter almost stop my heart with its intensity.

I have to remind myself that I am in these moments and I am doing well. Embrace the new year.