Creativity Takes a Hit

Unfortunately, the month of June done got away from me. We got back from Pennsylvania and it was the beginning of June; now it is the 27th and I keep asking myself, “Where has the month gone?” My creative juices dried up in all the hectic hustle and bustle, except for one area: the garden. The little plot of earth in my backyard, and my plans for it, have kept me occupied and hopeful. When I needed a quick break from work, I’d find myself out in the yard for a half hour or so, ripping out weeds or vines, or running off to get something at Lowe’s to put in an empty pot just so I could say There, I did something good today.

Even when it was nearly 100 degrees, and I coaxed my brave little delphinium along. There’s one shoot left that might, just might bloom, but it doesn’t look too happy right now. I just couldn’t keep it moist enough. I’ve taken off as much of the dead stuff as I dared, and left the better-looking leaves, and one spire of buds. Here’s hoping.

I spent two days plotting out a bulb map, picking Double Lilacs and Princess Irenes and Ruby Giant crocuses and Mr Fokker anemone, and gladioli, and wondering what spring would bring.

Jim started pulling some of the front bushes out. Apparently, our boxwoods have been here since at least the 1930s. One of our neighbors wholeheartedly encouraged us to take them out, so the bushes on that side of the house have led the exodus. Something tells me that the bushes abutting the other neighbor will be let be, for now. “They’ve been there forever,” he says. We’ll put in hostas, or mounding annuals, or a fast growing ground cover. Something visually low, and physically low maintenance.

And then, a great sad thing caught up to us, to our little family of close-knit friendships. I lost a week just keeping the gears running at work, keeping food in the house, keeping Jim in suits and ties, talking everyone else off of emotional ledges, and letting my mind wander in between. I slept badly. I had strange dreams. When no one else wore makeup because tears would make it run, I deliberately put on eyeliner and mascara so I’d have a reason to not cry, to stay strong because that’s what was needed. If one person kept putting one foot in front of the other, it was going to have to be me who led the way. The heat wave kept my mind firmly in the present: Must water the delphinium before it gets too hot.

I’m not feeling creative so much as I’m feeling tired, spent, wrung out. I’m looking forward to my next chance to get out in the sun and get my hands dirty, and get back in to the swing of things.

Hint: Bluegold, Toro, Earliblue.


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Filed under creative week, the house

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