It has been a while since I posted anything on this blog, three months, to be exact. One reason is that it was summer and I spent more time gardening and less time writing. In fact, I took a sabbatical from writing while I waged war on the weeds, the slugs, the deer and the rabbits. This year’s garden took more work for less reward than I have ever experienced before.

Weather was the major culprit. The days were unseasonably warm early in the spring, then, after we’d seeded, the mercury dropped and anything that had sprouted stopped growing or died altogether. In mid-June I replanted most of my vegetables, gave up on various flower beds and tried to salvage something in the berry patch. 

Scientists have been warning us for years that climate change will have a drastic effect on our agriculture, not to mention the forests, the oceans and the fresh water lakes. This summer I had practical experience of their dire predictions. 

But, I’m a farmer’s daughter so the mantra of “next year” runs through my thinking. As I dig out stunted carrots, I plan that “next year” I’ll plump up my soil. Next year I’ll put floating covers over the seeds. Next year I’ll get a better deer fence. 

Thank goodness for the optimism of farmers. Our newscasts have been filled with images of drought-stricken fields, smoke damaged fruit, and flooded barns. Farmers have every reason to give up, to sell their land to developers and look for an easier life. Fortunately for the rest of us, they hang in there, with plans and promises for “next year.”

As I return to my neglected stories, I seek to carry that optimism forward. This time, the scene that just wouldn’t come together last spring, will, somehow, write itself. This time the flat, cardboard character I created in the early drafts, will come to life with personality quirks, secrets, and dreams. This time, I’ll find the joy of telling a story.

How was your summer? What are your plans for “next year?”

 

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