“Life is bristling with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to cultivate one’s garden.”
That’s a Voltaire quote. It was also a writing prompt at a writers’ group I checked out on June 10th called Tale Spinners. We had 10 minutes to write something based on that prompt, and here’s what I came up with:
One thing after another. First a job loss, a family death, and a change of circumstances. Nothing going to plan, and nothing going the right way.
From room to room she wandered, restless, unsure what to do with so much time and so many new feelings. Adrift. Alone. For the first time ever, she hadn’t a husband, job, or any of a variety of other things to distract her from the stillness and restlessness of far too much time and far too little to do.
She attempted to read, but couldn’t focus, tried to cook but wasn’t hungry, thought painting would help but only succeeded in staring at a blank canvas.
Only upon wandering outside to see her garden, once her pride, now quite in disarray due to circumstance, she felt an inkling of something pleasant.
For once, her thoughts slowed and her mood lifted as she took up glove and trowel against the various weeds and bugs crowding her flowers and shrubs.
She was only out there a short time, an hour at most, and yet she felt herself again, somewhat at least.
Looking out her window at her now orderly garden, it felt good, in a way she couldn’t quite place.
Perhaps the small accomplishment was enough to boost her mood, or the fresh air helped. But something about the orderly shrubs and tended flowers made her smile.
Jobs come and go, and family members, and plans change. But she could always find joy somewhere, even if it was just in her own backyard.