what do I know
of urban nature and cottagecore realness?
If I wrote a book, it would be like this. It would probably be in Finnish though, and maybe I would have needed to write it in a more elaborate way, and edit myself too, with some sort of thought of target audience. Now you get to read my raw, authentic notes and scribbles. Is it good or bad, you decide.
Balancing between practicality and dreaming, mundane and whimsical, I live in an urban city in the metropolitan area. If I commute 30 minutes through suburbs I'll reach the center of the capital. If I take the bus in the opposite direction it will take me through country landscape to the gates of protected forest in 30 minutes.
We bought an old house, a cute cottage with enough space to accommodate 2 adults and 2 kids but with a smart floor plan that it will not be too big for just the two of us after the kids have moved out to places of their own. We have a yard, space for privacy, garden and little fruit trees and bushes, but nothing too extravagant since this is a densely populated city. We also have a vegetable patch for growing potatoes, carrots and zucchinis.
I am diginative, technology-interested person, who embraces the new advances in this field, but not at any cost. I'm old enough to have learnt from my grandmother that clean nature around you provides food, shelter, health, joy and belonging, but it's a two-way street: you need to put in the nurture too. She also showed how making and tending your clothes, preparing your own food and flowing with the changing seasons makes you connected to the earth and to the world.
I was 20 years old, living alone in a new city, without a job, living in a shoebox, when I discovered that by keeping my hands busy I can keep my head clear, no matter how hard times were. I think that is how I avoided sinking into a depression in a very difficult period of my life. I ditched my IT studies to become an artisan. As life went on and I learnt more about myself, I noticed that keeping myself on the move made me really happy. It was a lesson also from my grandmother, who stayed an active recreational athlete until the end of her days. So I changed field again, and now I get my living by making sure other people keep on moving while getting to be on the move myself too.
I'm sad my grandmother didn't get to see me grow up. But I owe so much of who I am today to her. People call it cottagecore, but it's more like grandmacore for me.