So is this a gardening blog? A perfume blog? A diary?
Nobody knows. But I've tweaked it just a bit, added a list of the six main topics, added a glossary to point to when I feel that some context is called for, removed some pages that I was failing to maintain, and, well, there we are.
I also removed a fair number of blogs from my blogroll--the ones that haven't had a post in so long that it seems likely that they've gone permanently idle. And now I feel bad, because I'll probably never know if they've re-awakened now. But it's done.
The garden is gently winding down. There's still plenty to write about. I have a dozen photos on my phone recording the process of shelling my corn. And I'll be putting in the garlic. And there's bed after bed after bed to prep, in gaps in the rain, on until spring. And the ittybitty lawn at the farm wants seeding. Plenty to write about.
But my mind is occasionally looking up and around and noting, "You know, I used to write about perfume." And in addition to the Farmer to Farmer podcast, I've started listening to Seamwork Radio. And thinking about notions that I might want to gather for some sewing over Thanksgiving and/or Christmas. And NaNoWriMo is coming up. Winter hobbies.
That is all.
Image: Wikimedia Commons.
Thank you so much for keeping both my blogs on your blogroll. I am touched. I want you to know that I read all of your posts and am tickled with your gardening diary and miss your fiction writing.
ReplyDeleteJust possibly, maybe in honor of remaining on your blogroll, I will post a chicken dish that I developed long before similar dishes hit the food mags. 😊
Yo, Christine! Of course! And thank you! I occasionally wonder if anyone is reading the garden posts, so I greatly appreciate knowing that you are.
ReplyDeleteI miss the fiction, too. I think that my brain may be slowly backing off on the enforcement of "One hobby. Stop all this flailing around. ONE HOBBY!" position that it took a few months ago. Once it's satisfied that the garden is put to bed for the winter and fully ready for the spring, fiction could happen.
Woohoo! Chicken!