Although I live in beautiful Florida with my dear friend for most of the year, I am privileged to own a stunning home on a lake in northern West Virginia. My son keeps the home fires burning for the most part, but in May I want to be there to go through my gardens, see what plants are thriving, pull out the weeds. As a person who loves any reason to be outdoors, weeding and mulching my flower beds are labors of love. The fresh air and bird song from the surrounding woods calm my spirit as nothing else can. I have lots of "volunteer" plants in my back garden, plants that spread themselves from their original location. I almost always let them stay where they've decided to be. Makes a wild mixture sometimes, but I like the natural feeling.
Working outside allows my mind to wander, stories form, plot twists appear. Just this morning I realized that pulling weeds in a garden and finding plants in unexpected places is not unlike the editing process I go through when I have written a story, let it sit for a while, and then delve back into it almost like a new reader. Then I can remove the "weeds," the unnecessary words or phrases that clutter up the overall picture I strive to create. And during that process, new descriptions pop up, adding color and texture to my original work. I can see then where the story is thin, needs more development. Characters and settings can be enriched, nourished as easily as plants can be pruned, transplanted, and fed. And the result, when enough time has been put in, satisfies as a well-tended, much loved garden.
