ramblings from an arkansas farm girl
Dear Sunday Letter Readers,
Thanks for being patient with me in my sporadic Sunday letter writing. Over the past week, I moved my blog to a new host which resulted in a smidgen of down time. Sometimes we need to take a time out to fix things, right?
All is well now. Yay for that!Continue Reading
The thinks in my brain? They float and flit and maybe end up on a blog page. Maybe they’ll end up in a book someday. Maybe they’ll simply disappear beneath the worm moon going nowhere at all.
My makeshift greenhouse. It doesn’t look like much yet, only a bright window in the garage. Impossibly small seeds sprinkled into soil, watered with a dribble, fussed over, talked to as though I’m “in charge of the last of the Truffula seeds.
And Truffula trees are what everyone needs.”
Since I returned from Iceland, I’ve been writing like a fiend. Between all the words, I garden. That’s pretty much it. Weeds, y’all. They are thriving. I know my garden as well as I know the manuscript I’m working on. Because when I say, I garden, what I mean is, I crawl around on my hands and knees looking between flowers, pulling weeds by hand, studying the landscape and what’s changed in my brief absence. (Much like scrubbing the lines of my writing, pulling weed words. See what I did there?) I’m here to announce there are some mid-June garden shenanigans at work in my flower beds.
For real.
It’s as though the tiny garden gnomes said, “Hey, she’s gone for two whole weeks! PAR-TEEEE.”
And they have been.Continue Reading
