where does your creativity come from?
NOBODY HAD EVER ASKED ME ABOUT WHERE I THOUGHT my “creativity” came from–the oomph or mojo or whatever you want to call it behind things like gardening and writing and I suppose even taking photographs (like the one of dried-up gourds and snakeskins inside the windowsill, above) that I seem to spend a lot of time doing. Then Canadian blogger Jamie Ridler popped the question recently, and what resulted was a podcast that you can find your way to from here.
I’m looking forward to listening to your interview, and catching up on your gardening show on Robin Hood radio. Have been working on my “front garden” and to my chagrin, this has entailed having to receive comments from neighbors strolling by on the wooded path along my house–“you have a lot of work ahead of you!”–or making small talk. My solution is to wear an Ipod to ward such attention-suckers off, and I will be in good company now in my digitally built solitude. But in the future, I’m going to focus on the back of the house and let the front go so I can truly garden in peace.
I like your comment about when you moved there permanently, you started noticing things that you had missed. That made me think not only about the places that I visit off and on like one of my gardens, the mountains, and the ocean but also about the changes that have taken place since I had last visited. This is easily seen at the beach when each new tide brings new flotsam, driftwood, and the like. Sometimes this is harder to see in the garden unless dramatic changes are taking place. Of course, it also depends on how often one visits. But the time difference could also be in smaller segments: overnight a new mole hole appears, during the day a poppy blooms, that last minute that a Robin grabbed a worm. Could it be that nature is something that happens when we are not looking?