I wish I had more time to work in my garden. But–come to think of it–things are coming along quite nicely without me. Here are some scenes from my yard in the springtime.
Gardening is good for writers because it doesn’t occupy the same channel in the brain as writing does. I should do more of it. There is more power in the plotting done while pruning the box hedge than in staring at a blank page for hours.
I’m not a very technical gardener. In this climate, you don’t need to be. Things tend to grow on their own. However, there are two things I always wear while gardening–my Chooka Rockabilly gumboots–because trust me, there is nothing grosser than stepping barefoot on a slug. I also wear those stretchy gloves that look as though they’ve been dipped in rubber–again, it’s the slug thing.
On the other hand, here is a tidbit of writerly wisdom for the day: If you step on a slug with your bare foot first thing in the morning, then you can be pretty sure nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.