It was overcast yesterday, and I spent most of the day inside, working intensely on my blog post. Lots of copying, pasting, hunting, pecking. On days like those, I lose track of my body, the idea of height or strength or even texture, and it is all just words.
Focus, focus, focus is my friend.
I ate lunch – at my desk as other writers do – seeking to re-fuel my focus and find more just-right words. Though I’m a word nerd, just-right is an elusive beast and causes – to my dentist’s dismay – much gnashing of teeth.
In the early afternoon, I wistfully looked outside, wondering when the sun would burn off the fog, and it was then that I spied my husband’s robust garden. We’d backed the raised bed with sunflowers, not knowing the salvation they’d bring.
You see, it was only when we moved to Southern California that we learned of June Gloom. To make matters worse, to betray these Midwesterners’ promise, that seasonal phenomenon had expanded to include May Gray.
While I didn’t physically cut those valiant flowers, I plucked them as metaphorical words for my blog post. God gives what he’d taken away (our perceived promise of constant sunshine) and my word count is complete.
I smile – and then another miracle transpires.
My husband steps into view to water his garden, tending the crops in the thorough, well-plotted manner that he takes care of me. His is a methodical, purposeful love. He often brings me flowers – not the florist high-priced and artfully-arranged variety – but serendipitous bunches of thoughtfulness. Today is the deadheads from the marigolds that ring his raised beds, the varmint wardens he’s planted.
His is the universal care of a farmer that loves the land and its mayhem, the better to curb it to his will.
I wish I had a similar ability to bend words to my will.
Hopefully those sunflowers beat off the May gloom and give you the right words.
I always think that when I’m not writing, I’m still storing up ideas. Or as Liza of Middle Passages said today, “Thinking is writing.” The words will come. Your garden sounds lovely!
Hi, Jenni! Thanks for reading my thoughts, then sharing wisdom: yours and Liza’s. We are entertaining houseguests, so I didn’t have time to hop the IWSG blogs.
I planted about twenty sunflower seeds and they all came up! I’m hoping the birds leave me a few seeds for next year’s crop.
Here’s to winter blues being in the past. Happy spring and marvelous summer.
Thanks for reading and caring to share – yesterday was a beautiful sunshiny day, so all is moving forward here in So Cal.
Nothing wrong with sunflowers, but, if I may say so, don’t eat lunch at your desk. Other writers don’t do this. You and your body need a break from the computer.
Oops, Lazy me is caught out, called out… My husband and I also sometimes dine while we watch the nightly news…
I have a lot of fond childhood memories of marigolds.
Ooooh, I love to hear some of them… intriguing! Thanks for stopping by my blog –
Love reading your posts
Your wonderful sunflowers, against California’s May grey . Writing buddy cousin and their family live in So Cal –
Here, in Westmorland, UK, we’ve been reminded all week of our own treasure and gift -that came free with the 400 year old house, our own English bluebell wood., endangered, threatened, and in our walled garden, safe even from hungry sheep. Husband barricaded the front gate, because people would keep leaving it open., after leaving election junk….
Thanks for reading and thanks for the compliment!
I’d love to see a picture of your 400-year-old house. Our home is 60 years old, which is ancient for Southern California (wink-wink)
I remember being so surprised by the May Gray and June Gloom when I moved to Southern California. Wasn’t it supposed to be sunny there every. single. day? Apparently not. Now I’m in the Central Valley, where we have Tule Fog Season in the winter, which is a whole other level of gloom but also kind of spooky and romantic (and terrifying if you have to drive in it).
I wish I could bend words to my will, too, but alas, I lack that superpower.
Thanks for reading and replying to my post – ‘see’ you next month!