It’s that time of year when garden writers have slowed down, if not altogether halted their horticultural pursuits while at the same time they are feverishly working upon the writing aspect of their dual-aspect professions. That’s where I stand right now. Well, actually I’m sitting, under a blanket and my warm laptop working in my winter home away from home. Isn’t it funny how you adapt to being cold again so soon?
It’s too soon to talk about plants down here in the south, a few camellias are blooming here and there braving the chilly weather but that’s about it. My southern garden writer-friends are in garden-planning mode already but I know not to even think about that for several more months.
In between knocking out columns and stories I’ve been thinking about a quote by Hermann Hesse I saw recently.
"Without words, without writing and without books there would be no history, there could be no concept of humanity."
Considering the events of this past year, past weeks, you can’t help but feel helpless about the threats facing journalists as they cover the big issues abroad. Even for a writer it’s hard to imagine. Here I sit tapping away about flowers, bees, trees and the like. It’s not like anyone will take issue, well not much, with what I write. I write without worry of being gruesomely murdered or tortured or flogged for speaking my mind.
I am in awe of the people who head off to far-flung places seeking to share the truth about global events with the rest of the world. I grew up idolizing those people who brought us the news while risking their lives, journalists in khaki and cameras slung around their necks trudging through deserts and jungles both urban and wild. And to this day they still merit my awe and admiration. I just thought I’d say that, because thanks to freedom of the press, I can.