I know, I know...why even start a blog if I can't manage to write in the damn thing? While that is a compelling point...I do have shit to say about this life-consuming undertaking and it seems I've finally found a few minutes during which to let my thoughts flow.
While I'm not sure where the tradition originated or why, I just know that it exists- all truly great (which here means cultivated with great care and enthusiasm) gardens have names, like ranches, yachts, or rifles. As is the case with conjuring titles or naming anything, it is my belief that one should never force a name upon anything, no matter how small. All truly fitting names come naturally, usually as they are earned in some fashion. My puppies remain nameless until the instant the proverbial light bulb goes off and it comes blurting out of my mouth. From that point forth, "It" is permanent and might as well be made of solid gold that sticks like solid glue....That moment came this morning for me and my (now formerly) unidentified all-consuming hobby garden....
The story, like so many in my lifetime, begins and ends in my bookcase...After a long night of disorganizing my chaos in order to reform it and hopefully create some semblance of order from its wreckage, I found myself standing in my kitchen with all of my literary possessions sprawled across every plausible surface available to accomodate such sprawl. If I was going to achieve anything remotely close to the reorganization goal C & I had discussed and set, I was going to have to pack up a serious chunk of these books (for storage or for yard or online sale, an actually expansive topic for another day, another blog). And just like that, the relatrively limited space on the bookshelves in my office became places of high honor, prestige...or simply valuable in a suddenly seriously competitive market. As I've literally read over 85% of my collection, I needn't accomodate a large area to titles classified under the cover-all "To Read". Between this fact and the D.I.Y. wall-mount bookshelf project which is currently in progress, I had no trouble designating an area of significance for books that I believe should just have big heart eye emojis littering both covers...you know, my faaaaavorites. While I clearly jest, it's quite the selective list as they have made the cut out of the literal hundreds I've absorbed in just my adult life. I began pulling those most-prized of titles from the rubble with efficiency as one always recognizes these books quickly. As I picked up John Steinbeck's "East of Eden", something clicked in my brain- a classic epiphany. The voice in my head could not be misconstrued or denied.
My garden's formal name shall be "South of Eden".
I think it the perfect epithet...multi-contextual, a nod to my first and forever love of literature and my more recently discovered love for Steinbeck (an OG, for sure), as well as a salute to my preference for the South in general. And let us not forget the tendency for my life and everything in it to head straight south to hell...away from Eden...at any moment...jk but srsly.
Chance made the joke that I should name it "Good and Evil" because I'm forever gardening at "Midnight". Heh. While I do like the idea, I'm already happily committed.
...now to get started on that custom hand-painted sign that will announce this to the neighboring masses...
The story, like so many in my lifetime, begins and ends in my bookcase...After a long night of disorganizing my chaos in order to reform it and hopefully create some semblance of order from its wreckage, I found myself standing in my kitchen with all of my literary possessions sprawled across every plausible surface available to accomodate such sprawl. If I was going to achieve anything remotely close to the reorganization goal C & I had discussed and set, I was going to have to pack up a serious chunk of these books (for storage or for yard or online sale, an actually expansive topic for another day, another blog). And just like that, the relatrively limited space on the bookshelves in my office became places of high honor, prestige...or simply valuable in a suddenly seriously competitive market. As I've literally read over 85% of my collection, I needn't accomodate a large area to titles classified under the cover-all "To Read". Between this fact and the D.I.Y. wall-mount bookshelf project which is currently in progress, I had no trouble designating an area of significance for books that I believe should just have big heart eye emojis littering both covers...you know, my faaaaavorites. While I clearly jest, it's quite the selective list as they have made the cut out of the literal hundreds I've absorbed in just my adult life. I began pulling those most-prized of titles from the rubble with efficiency as one always recognizes these books quickly. As I picked up John Steinbeck's "East of Eden", something clicked in my brain- a classic epiphany. The voice in my head could not be misconstrued or denied.
My garden's formal name shall be "South of Eden".
I think it the perfect epithet...multi-contextual, a nod to my first and forever love of literature and my more recently discovered love for Steinbeck (an OG, for sure), as well as a salute to my preference for the South in general. And let us not forget the tendency for my life and everything in it to head straight south to hell...away from Eden...at any moment...jk but srsly.
Chance made the joke that I should name it "Good and Evil" because I'm forever gardening at "Midnight". Heh. While I do like the idea, I'm already happily committed.
...now to get started on that custom hand-painted sign that will announce this to the neighboring masses...
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