Monday, December 31, 2012


            I just spent two irretrievable hours of my life wearing one of Tim’s hard white art erasers (not to mention my thumb) down to frass removing the first three months of journal entries from my second-decade weather observation book. Seemed like a good idea back in 2010, making brief daily jottings on the goings-on in the yard in a ten-years-at-a-glance context. When all interest in continuing evaporated that same May—about the time when being in the garden was ’way more appealing than writing about the garden—I shelved the idea and the book, resolving to deal with the latter before 2013.

            Guess what arrives tomorrow?

            Guess what arrived today? A New Year’s resolution I know I can keep: after 50 years in the trenches, I’m swearing off formal journaling.

            Obsessive journaling is really a sort of masturbation. It’s why the blogosphere thrives. There’s the titillation of others reading, perhaps commenting on, your revelations. There’s also the possibility of the odd 15 minutes of fame, such as the kvetching blogging mom who declared her own kid would be the next Adam Lantz, garnering herself appearances on the morning talk shows. I mean, really. No wonder the kid has problems.

            The realization dawned that I’m no Samuel Pepys (pronounced PEEPS, not PEP-is). The realization also dawned that I turn 60 in 2013. Over the past several years, I’ve been moving steadily toward the place where it’s a lot more important to be out living life rather than just writing about it.

            Does that mean GFTGU has finished its run? No. At least not yet. Playing in the dirt is a life-long love affair, and the best education, and the best therapy ever. But, to steal from Robert Frost,

                                    I have promises to keep
                                    And miles to go before I sleep,
                                    And miles to go before I sleep.

            Happy New Year, y’all. And thanks for dropping by.


P.S. – Wanna know the most profound thing I erased this morning? On March 2, 2010, I wrote: “Met Allan Armitage [at the Davidson College Gardening Symposium]. He’s a jerk.”