Mysterious Bugs v Fragrant Blooms

This summer the garden has been literally plagued by problems. For the second year running a mysterious bug has attacked the tomatoes and the peppers causing the fruit to rot on the stems. Another disease has also variously affected the honeysuckle, one of the rambling roses and the cherry tomatoes (not affected by the first disease) this time causing the leaves to wither.

As if this weren't disturbing enough, the normally robust snapdragons have been covered by what appears to my untrained eye to be some sort of rust and the indestructible hollyhocks have been so extensively attacked by the beetle that always eats their leaves, they they all but gave up flowering altogether!

Despite all this, we have probably spent more time in the garden and had more enjoyment from it this summer than in any previous year. This has been due to the possibility of plunging into our reconditioned mini water tank to lower our skyrocketing body temperatures followed by a peaceful sit under the relative cool shade of our controversial 'tree of heaven' enjoying the greenery and the flowers. Being spared the arduous chore of watering the entire garden by hand every other day due to our newly-installed watering system has also made us feel rather more positive about the work-versus-enjoyment balance of our little plot as have the fewer-than-hoped-for but very tasty meals that we have been able to prepare containing our own produce.

The contradictory nature of all this reminds me of how important it is to keep an overview of what's going on in our lives and that applies to our often-troublesome creative lives as well. It is so important to have a system in place for really taking stock of our creative achievements such as regular reviews of our creative goals so that we don't get to believing that our creative garden is all about ravaging beasties whilst forgetting those sublime moments when we relax and enjoy the fragrance of our blooms or savour the flavour of our wonderful produce.

Our creative lives, like our gardens, often seem like a rather giddy roller-coaster of peaks and troughs interspersed with some scary dark periods where it seems nothing will ever bloom again so occasionally we need to just stand still, resting on our metaphorical spade, squint at the sunlight and think,

"Yes, but...overall...it is all rather wonderful, isn't it?"