wednesday.

I want to be writing again.

not just to complain, or to vent about everything, or to stream of conciousness something and to post it ust like that. I want to be thinking about writing again, writing on topics that mean something, or that I’m thinking through and processing and feeling and praying through.

I want to be writing again.

I went over to the Hutson House the other night and weeded the upper garden. I pulled all of the dead weeds and new weeds and all the layers of growth that don’t have any rhyme or reason. I left the leaves covering the good soil, and I did not disturb the lower garden, but I spent an hour in the upper garden clearing the way.

like the rest of the property and the house as a whole, there is so much to do to prep it for changes. I’ve cleared the weeds, but now I need to turn and refresh the soil, lay the compost and the new dirt, and allow it to settle while I figure out the fence and how to protect new plants from being munched on by the wildlife. I need to find some marigolds to plant around the edges, and I need to figure out where to get my own compost bin and a rain barrel, while I’m at it. and that’s just for the upper garden.

it gets uglier on the way to beauty, I’ve found, with everything in the house. it gets worse before it gets better.

I feel the same with getting back into writing — it gets worse before it gets better. it takes time to develop writing muscles, and even more time to get them back once they’ve atrophied.

everything good, everything wholesome and whole, takes time and effort and diligence and a willingness to make mistakes and do it wrong. this is where I fall off the wagon — I want to do things one time, quickly, and perfectly.

Lord willing, that mindset is about to change, in one thousand of ways.