Since I returned from Iceland, I’ve been writing like a fiend. Between all the words, I garden. That’s pretty much it. Weeds, y’all. They are thriving. I know my garden as well as I know the manuscript I’m working on. Because when I say, I garden, what I mean is, I crawl around on my hands and knees looking between flowers, pulling weeds by hand, studying the landscape and what’s changed in my brief absence. (Much like scrubbing the lines of my writing, pulling weed words. See what I did there?) I’m here to announce there are some mid-June garden shenanigans at work in my flower beds.
It’s as though the tiny garden gnomes said, “Hey, she’s gone for two whole weeks! PAR-TEEEE.”
And they have been.Continue Reading