Hands in the dirt; head in the clouds.

The secret twin of my life as a writer is my life as a mini-farmer.  I’m not mini.  My farm is.  I tend a 40 x 40 vegetable garden (fenced to keep out the deer and elk) as well as the potatoes, artichokes, rhubarb, herbs, and asparagus (which have sprawled outside the fence because the herbivores don’t eat them.

It’s all manual labor for me out there: tilling, weeding, planting, harvesting.  And it’s work that leaves my back aching but my belly full and – here’s the writing connection – my writer’s mind loose, free, and open.

As creatives, we must make times for our minds to wander, to get lost, to be unproductive.  When I’m stuck, I’m usually trying too hard.  There’s nothing like a little pulling weeds to get me on track again.  That, and chickens.  They are delightful and so are the omelets!

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