When there's no clear answer

Letting go, and beginning again

Little French Retreat

A month ago I made the decision to sell my house.

Many of you will remember the wall story from 2019, when a large part of the sixty meter retaining garden wall fell, crushing the septic tank and causing the end of welcoming guests at the house.

I had spent six years to find the solution, until recently it all came together: the right artisan, a beautiful solution at a price I could manage, with the discovery of a government eco-loan to cover everything. And then, at the very last hurdle, I discovered I have no legal rights over the property. My stepfather and I are both on the deeds, and neither of us had understood what that meant

It was the last thing I had anticipated and I haven’t fully accepted it. But there is no way around it but through, which means to let go, and begin again with a new vision, a new life, a new house somewhere I haven’t yet found.

So for now, I am in the pottery.

After a month of writing, processing, circling, trying to make sense of what comes next, I have finally settled, with my hands in clay. There is something about the slow ways of slipware, the mark-making, the organic process of following where the decoration wants to lead, that soothes what words cannot quite reach.

I have the next three months before the autumn season of in-person retreats begins where I can immerse myself in making pots, while continuing to tend to the garden, preparing the house with care and love to hand over to the next custodians of this special place.

Details and dates of the autumn retreats, here in France and the UK are coming soon. Otherwise, I hope you'll join me as I work out what this next phase looks like and find my next home, somewhere that can hold all the practices that make life meaningful.

Until then, with love from Southwest France,
Tamsin x

The view from the house