Out of the Debauched Sloth
Bonus musings for the generous...
THE PLANT REJECTS THE GARDENER
...and it can be just the same with writing
Let me be clear, I am a truly rotten gardener. It’s not just plants; whole trees have died under my care.
To be fair to myself, I’m a Brit transposed to California, in the middle of the worst drought on record. It’s seriously hard to do well here and save water at the same time; you really have to know what you’re about, and I really don’t. Even after ten years, I’m still busking it.
And, of course, every gardener kills a lot of plants. It goes with the territory. Sometimes it’s even deliberate.
However: “I don’t know what I’m doing” is a confession, not an excuse. I’ve had plenty of time to figure things out. There are books, there are YouTube videos, there’s a whole worldful of media willing and eager to help me out and make me better informed; there are official accredited Master Gardeners of my acquaintance locally, and other people who have simply been gardening here a long time, and are always happy to share their wisdoms; and there’s the simple expedient of trying and failing and learning from experience. I guess I have done a little of the latter, but it’s been much more a case of trying the same thing again and hoping for a different result. Which—yeah. Not so much, really. It’s like having not ten years of experience here, but the same year repeated ten times.