Wow. It’s been quite a while since I update this blog. What’s the point of doing something for pleasure if it becomes a chore — and that’s how I was looking at this little ole site for some time. A chore.
I was feeling pressure (that I created for myself, by the way) to somehow entertain or be clever for an audience. I forgot I was writing for myself because I enjoy it. The task is, of course, to figure out what is making me happy…writing? Not writing? Something else?
When I woke up this morning I took my coffee out on the porch while the dog was out doing whatever it is dogs do in the morning when there’s a big yard full of rabbits, squirrels, and birds to terrorize. There was a terrible rain last night that tore up our freshly laid mulch, and all the work was destroyed. It can be fixed, of course — restored if you will, maybe even better, but in the moment it was disappointing and frustrating to see.
As I was sipping my coffee and sighing over the mess, I caught sight of all the berries turning bright red on the vine. I’m totally aware of how many tweets and facebook statuses have been about the raspberries that are growing so abundantly in my garden, and I am amused by it. This is the same woman who tried to kill an African Violet twenty-eight years ago, and embraced the brown thumb responsible for killing every houseplant I came near since The Great Crispy Violet Episode of 1985.
I guess I was busy keeping little people fed.
Now I’m busy keeping myself fed — with fresh ripe raspberries plucked right off the vine.
Perspective is everything, I suppose. I could focus my camera on the mulch mess or the raspberries. I think I chose wisely.