Today I am not going to write about whether gardening is art; that delight is saved for a day next week. Instead I want to welcome all my new subscribers, and thank each and every visitor to this blog over the last 17 hours or so for taking the time to visit, ‘like’ and comment. I am hugely appreciative, and grateful to you all!
If I have learned nothing else these past five months with my daily blogging commitments, I have at least realised the importance of being able to spin on a sixpence (remember them?) and respond rapidly and intuitively to changes of circumstance and plan.
My Big Plan for May has been one of creative survival. With 54 drawings and accompanying text to make for a July book deadline, 16 large projection images to design for an amateur dramatics production for mid-June, and work in exhibitions in July and September, I have morphed and merged unattractively with my laptop and graphics tablet and been welded to my chair for weeks.
Add in to the chaotic mix exam fever with three children, and it’s not surprising the only cups we can find are buried under mounds of textbooks and paper, sporting a fetching film of green mould. Each mealtime (if anyone has had chance to buy food, never mind cook it) is preceded by a hunt for crockery only to find it is still dirty in the dishwasher because no one has had time to press the switch.
My long-suffering spouse suggested the other day I “give up the unimportant stuff”. I stopped gazing at pixels long enough to give the suggestion the time it deserved, and a millisecond later told him he had no idea. He said I needed to focus on the priorities, like the house.
“The house?” I squeaked. The only certainty for me was that the house was not, and has never been, the priority. He asked me how much time I spend blogging, tweeting, reading online. Not enough, I said, and regular readers will understand why. He persisted in doing a silly calculation which purported to show I spend at least 12 hours a week writing my blogs. I harrumphed with derision and went back to my screen, but it did set me thinking. I wondered what it would be like to just say to the world: That’s it, folks. I have other, more important things to do. How would I feel? And I realised that all this activity has given me a real voice for the first time ever, and it would be nonsensical to stop. A No Brainer, as they say.
And then yesterday I arrived home to find my inbox exploding with unread messages from WordPress. I realised instantly what must have happened, and needless to say spent the whole evening enjoyably reading all the comments my post had prompted. There are so many, I haven’t been able to reply in the way I would wish, but I am again properly engaged with the online world: so thank you all once more.