A few years ago, my uncle and my mother decided to plant a garden in our backyard. Each time, nothing really came out of it except for a few peppers, lots of tomatoes, some green-beans, and some zucchini.
This year, we’re doing much better. Almost too good. We have tomatoes, green beans, peas, onions, cauliflower, possibly watermelon, potatoes, bell peppers, jalapeños & other chili peppers, carrots, and eventually we might get some pumpkins as well.
We might have to go giving away some of these things to the neighbors. There may be seven of us in one household, but we sure don’t need that many peppers. We have some green beans as long as my hand, and some pea-pods as long as my fingers. Some of those peppers are really big, too. And the best part about all of this—it all tastes so good; at least what’s ready at the moment.
Yet, herein lies the problem. This isn’t exactly writing. Hmm. The one good thing I can say is that I do have a character who’s good at gardening….. so, aha! I’ll claim this is research. There we go. Research. Yes, much better. Except that research doesn’t help boost your word-count….. Guess I should get back to writing, then. Especially since, after yesterday’s post, I think I might need to just push myself past this… Maybe everything’ll work itself out if I keep going.
Or maybe thing’s only get worse. But that’s just my pessimism talking.
Oh well. I’d better just hope for the best and start writing, eh?