Hoeing clears my unkempt land and
tangled thoughts.
When a writing deadline looms, and
my words remain rigidly entrenched somewhere in my brain, far beyond my best mining
abilities – I head for the garden.
If worries, personal or
professional, threaten my well-being – I head for the garden.
The very act of repeatedly striking
something solid, and breaking it up is cathartic.
Despite vigorous whacks that diminish
earth clods and eradicate thick weed clumps there is no guarantee my problems
miraculously evaporate. This is only a postage-stamped
garden – not Lourdes.
Sometimes, several hoeing
sessions are required to achieve Nirvana. Often sheer exhaustion from the physical
labor purges a situation’s difficulties with a deep sleep.
Can hoe-hoe-hoeing bring hope?Yes, plus a great garden as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment