June 9, 2016

I managed to get two chapters done on the flight out last night. It was a trial run for a new process I’m using for the read aloud. However, it seems to work very well, so far, with my travel schedule.

My Hydrangeas are running their own experiment trying to decide if they like this easterly corner of the house. It is difficult sometimes to find just the right mix of sun and shade for them. This one I babied in the butterfly room, from a start last year, and I think I have found her outdoor home.

I keep them in planters moving them all over the yard till I find just the right spot and sometimes even then its not right; the soil has too much slate or the pH is wrong, but you have to keep trying. It’s kind of like writing.

The rewrite of this manuscript is completely different from my first, which I hope means I have grown as a writer. Regardless, there is still much room for improvement. The chapters last night did not require a lot of wrestling. So, I took a break between the chapters to read some of a book Maggie Linton recommended. I considered doing a discussion of the book because it is so heartfelt, both painful and joyous, in its honesty. I still may do that when I finish it.

My thought for today is to face writing like my effort to find a plant a home. Be patient with your characters; reach to their heart to see their fears, and flaws, but be mindful of their needs. Each character has strengths and weaknesses.

This is a picture of one of my annuals – shhhh, she doesn’t know that – she keeps coming back every year. She is in a planter and I baby her some by sprinkling mulch after she is cut back, but she stays outside through the winter and by virtue of her species should not bear it, but she does. It was a happy accident. I didn’t have room for her and her sister in the butterfly room, so I cut her back and covered her with mulch to give her the best chance. I try to give all my annuals a chance to be perennial, it makes me feel like they have a choice rather than being bought for their beauty then ripped from their home because they are expected to die or left in disregard to fade away.

One of the questions I ask in my garden is did this plant fail, or struggle because I was inattentive to its character or need? It doesn’t absolve the plant of its responsibility to adapt and overcome, but it helps me remember the great responsibility of a gardener: Reflect first on yourself in the natural light of honesty before casting your shadow over a plant.

Aaaah . . . it is going to be a very good day.