... to paraphrase William Wordsworth. I have been thinking about building a brick wall around our yard (which I believe would turn it properly into 'grounds'), and never going outside of it, like Emily Dickinson. I believe one of the reasons I am an artist is that it is easier for me to deal with the world by creating my messages to the world, and sending them out on my behalf, leaving me behind (alone) in my studio to create more.
To those who don't understand this, I'm sure I am sounding crass and anti-social. But I have spent so many years, hours, and moments whispering with warp and weft, it has become difficult for me to be demanded social interaction in the medium of words, mostly chit-chat. It makes me, in Wordsworth's words, 'out of tune.' Wordsworth suggests that the cure is in getting back to nature. So out to the garden I went. Double cure: in my family, if you need solitude, it can pretty much be guaranteed if you head out to weed the strawberry bed.
As you can see, my rhubarb is looking good! This rhubarb was here when we moved to this house, eleven years ago. But it has never really produced anything. So a couple of years ago, I moved it from the flower garden, to our new raised vegetable bed. I also split it from 2 to 6 plants. It takes several years to get reestablished, once you move it, so I'm hoping this is my year for at least one good rhubarb pie! Or maybe two - a two crust-er for my more traditional husband, and a rhubarb cream pie for me. Mmmmmmm... I feel better just thinking about it! Wonder if Wordsworth had pie in mind when he suggested getting back to nature? Now that part of the world is never 'too much with me'!