Sometimes you lose. Be it in writing or gardening, nothing is guaranteed. Sometimes a garden no longer works, is destroyed or in my case, lost.
Like so many home owners, I fought the bank over an upside-down mortgage for the past few years. I lost. The garden I spent seven years nurturing is no longer mine. It’s like discovering that a novel I’ve worked on for seven years was just published by someone else.
Novels get trunked every day. Any novelist that has been at it for any length of time will have a couple of novels in the bottom drawer, or in my case on an old floppy disk. Just as most gardeners will have left behind some earlier attempts at horticulture.
It is a bittersweet thing. I hate leaving behind something I put so much of myself in, but at the same time, the garden had reached its limits. I yearned for more land to try out different plants, more space to spread out than a few hundred square feet to grow in.
I now have a few acres to work with. The possibilities with this land are endless. Visions of my own personal Eden taunt me. Starting from scratch fills me with both joy and dread.
But all of that will have to wait. The new land comes with a house that had been empty for five years and has more challenges to not only bring it up to code, but make it ours. The past four months have been packed with projects, daily visits to Home Depot and acting as my own general contractor.
The novel I have been working on has been on the back burner until now. This month I plan to dedicate half my free time to home renovation and the rest to completing the book. The garden might seem to be a distant project considering all the work that’s needed inside the house, but it’s not. Far from it.
This garden, possibly the last garden I will create will be a part of the house – somehow. I don’t really know what I’m going to do in it just yet.
For now, this blog that has been neglected for too long, will change it’s POV from one that grows words to one that builds stories.