It’s also here, even though I have no garden to speak of. 1 surviving, real plant, 1 deceased one I still have to return to nature, and an artificial one make up my wealth of indoor garden.
Still I celebrate Naked Gardening Day. By writing in the nude.
All through the year I cultivate the words and sentences that make the ingredients of my garden. I treasure the soil of my mind in which these words and sentences will take root.
On Naked Gardening Day I am paying extra attention to them. I look at them and see what will grow from them. These are the stems, the flowers, that will turn into paragraphs, chapters, stories, and finally into books.
That is my garden.