The garden. That mf'n garden, that is a stark mirror of it all. Overly-ambitious, resource-dry, mostly- abandoned...but nonetheless still producing. Me too.
This just about sums it up: "The swell of pride I feel when gazing at my rows of pickles—arguably the most 32 year-old thing I’ve ever written—is hard-won, the product of months of effort toiling our soil and many humid hours hovering over a boiling pot."
Two parts really struck me here.
The garden. That mf'n garden, that is a stark mirror of it all. Overly-ambitious, resource-dry, mostly- abandoned...but nonetheless still producing. Me too.
This just about sums it up: "The swell of pride I feel when gazing at my rows of pickles—arguably the most 32 year-old thing I’ve ever written—is hard-won, the product of months of effort toiling our soil and many humid hours hovering over a boiling pot."
Your writing is such a gift, Andrea!