The seeds from a Cornish farmer had been waiting patiently in a packet for a couple of years for a seemingly scripted ‘hallelujah’ moment like this. A moment to grow beyond the darkness. A moment to shine in the sun. So, the thought loosely rattled round my head, while planting the freshly germinated Sage cuttings in their neatly allocated pots.

Suffering with a bad back, feeling like Percy Thrower in his secret world of the potting shed, I was marvelling on how as a novice horticulturalist, I had once again managed to create life. This inner channelling of Jack and his Beanstalk, in the haphazard scattering of old seeds sourced from the market in the cloud, had finally delivered on its promise.

Hours later, with a spring in the step, stepping into spring, I took the executive decision to have a little burn, to clear a little of the old energy, with a fresh stick of last year’s vintage. All in the spirit of the new moon, new beginnings, and welcome seeds of progress in both the literal and metaphorical.

And, as the homegrown burned furiously and crackled with memory, breathing in the magic of my soon-to-be-revived energy clearing business, I was reminded it was always about the journey and never the destination.