the art of perspiration

I have often read that even if one has no inspiration, that just showing up and being there can still lead to good results.  So....
I waited.
and waited.
and waited some more.
I scrubbed and cleaned and then there was
NOTHING.
It came to me hard, that day, knowing that I had proclaimed myself an art jeweler for two years, invested boo coo bucks on beads and tools and string and storage...oh, and that anvil!  Thirty five pounds of cold steel.  I am sure that the UPS hunk would frown if he knew he had hauled that up the gravel driveway for nothing.  And yes, aren't all the UPS guys hunks???  But, I digress.

It struck me that it was much like dieting, how one gets all gung ho and loses 7 pounds and then is invariably faced with a challenge (my personal favorite challenge is cheese cake) devours said mountain and then just loses momentum. I had gone dry, creativity cast adrift.  The blogs and articles that I once found necessary for my happiness suddenly seemed overwhelming or even irrelevant. I found I just did not care about everyday earrings, color schemes or metal etching. It was like I had entered my own version of the black hole.  Vapid and very dark. Dark and alone.

I decided not to wait on inspiration any longer.  I went outside to work in the earth, to garden and mulch and heaven help me, try to get rid of the prehistoric trumpet vine whose base is as large around as my thigh!  Days passed.  I sweated, got backaches, sunburn and even stepped in doggy do.  My hair began to transform into yellow straw, dried and bleached beyond recognition, full of scraggly bits, regardless of the hat I plomped on my head on my way out the back door.  I just kept on digging and planting.  I uncovered all manner of heirloom plants in the way-back as I call it, the part of the yard that was once a lovely bamboo and flower garden that was overgrown and neglected for years.  I found a leek that was as tall as I am, and also found incredible help and blogs about gardening whist I tried to identify a Lunaria plant, an old version of hydrangea and wild orchids blooming spontaneously along the wooden fence.

Pink orchids - wild climbing

 New bamboo sprouts came bursting up from the earth where I had cleared masses of tangled vines, only to be devoured by the squirrels. What? Yes!  Gourmet squirrels!  Not content wiht the bird feeder overflowing with black sunflower seeds, these babies were munching whole heartedly on the baby bamboo.  More internet searching. Coconuts.  Place coconuts broken open on the ground and the squirrels would eat that first. Yeah.  To save the bamboo, I bought $15 worth of coconuts.My hubby pounded them open.  My opinion on the effectiveness of this?  Nada.  Don't do it.

unearthed bricks, new bamboo

I began to bring in the harvest from the vegetables every morning, my shoes wet with dew and recent rain.  I have only grown vegetables for a few years, and as I am in Georgia, that means that I have been a drought farmer.  We have had at least 7 years of drought in the summers, with all the folks in Atlanta fighting over water rights as everything dried up.  This year though, there is abundant rainfall and everything in the garden is HUGE.  My vegetables are wild with color and texture.  They are smooth and crisp and bumpy and some, like cucumbers and zucchini even have tiny spikes on them making them difficult to pick.  Such blessed abundance!

Yes that is a 12" zucchini

 And so the days of summer have been easing by, the physical labor was necessary I believe to clear something inside. Not sure if it was head or heart, but things began to be clearer.  Perhaps perspiration leads to inspiration?

I have more to write, but this is enough.  For now.

"Faith is to believe what we do not see; and the reward of this faith is to see what we believe."
 - Saint Augustine