Today I worked out a few scenes while loosening wild pursulane between the tomatoes which, by the way, gives a nice peppery flavour to salad. Also good with eggs. There’s something about working with dirt that invites my brain to think about writing. Possibly guilt. As in, I should be writing, why am I sowing a bed of arugula… but at exactly that moment the solution to some problem I’m having with chapter whatever very often walks into my somewhat guilty and sun-addled brain and this solution is so perfect that I have to write it down immediately on the back of a seed packet.

This kind of thing keeps me slightly addicted to gardening.

Also it’s a form of procrastination, which I’ve come to learn can actually be harnessed to serve as a tool of productivity. It’s just that you end up being productive in different areas and at different times than you think you should be. For instance, when I should  be gardening, when things are wilting and turning yellow, and the horseradish needs to be seriously attacked with a machete, I often find I’m very inspired to stay inside and write a few hundred words.

[alternate title for this post: Exhibit ‘A’…]