I am the type of person who thinks about something obsessively for weeks and months before I finally implement it. I thought about our front yard vegatable garden for four years--and only the pandemic and the temporary closing of the community garden forced my hand. But even then--after ordering the lumber and the supplies--I had to spend more time thinking about it alone. And I had to try the configuration out for two weeks before I could commit to a final design.
The alone part is probably very irritating to my husband. He likes to a part of things--which is, you know, normal for a husband. And it is not that he isn't part of things; it is just that I have a different way of going about my big planning of everything.
I do this same silent, long-term planning for parties, meals, weekend plans and of course, writing. In fact, being a writer is probably exactly why I am this way.
Writing is a solidarity act. However, I love it when people talk about my writing and since I am a writer, I am a bit narcissistic about my words (if you ever hear me say I don't care about getting credit for my words, I am humble lying. I want the billboard!) But, then again, I never want to talk about what I writing, while I am writing it, because the truth is, even after all those lonesome, internal planning, I usually have no idea and I cannot find the words to describe what is going to be on the page.
So, yes, I blame writing for my solitary nature when it comes to planning large ambitious garden projects.
But, May is just 6 days away and some of my seedlings are actually nearly plants now. I also have two hearty kiwi vines threatening to take over the porch. And already, some garden supplies seem to be backordered! So, it is time. It is time to stop my internal thinking and get the garden together.
Tonight, I finally put something on paper. It was torture--I feel like I need another year to think about it. And truly, it probably would be easier to talk it over with someone--but I don't feel like I can yet. My drawings are not technical or to scale or even reasonable.
Maybe, I'll talk to someone about it later this week or maybe in May. Or maybe I'll just order a few yards of mushroom soil and some more lumber and my husband will be horrified; but he'll grab the wheel barrow and the shovel, because he just knows this is how it goes with me. . .
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