I had a dream the other night that, for the most part, isn’t unusual for me this time of year. I knelt in the dirt digging around to find the seeds I’d planted days before. No, that’s not just a dream. I really do that. But in my dream I found a pea spreading out in the earth. I picked it up and placed it in my palm. As I stared a bright green sprout burst forth and grew toward the sun.
I don’t know that the dream had any particular meaning, but I woke up happy.
Yesterday, I was really out in my garden. And I was really digging up my seeds. Don’t judge me! I never claimed to be a patient woman. Anyway, I think I expected to see the growing seed again. But instead I found a bunch of half-eaten peas and a few that were just beginning to show signs of life.
Bummer. But I probably planted fifty peas, so I think I stand a good chance of harvesting at least a few yummy treats.
The moral of the story (if this silly story even has one): Even in my impatience sometimes miracle happen or it’s important to plant a lot of seed.
It certainly applies to my writing. Every once in a while, usually about the time I’ve given up, I receive some kind of request or encouragement that I hadn’t expected. I love those days!
As for the second moral, in publishing it pays to sow a lot of seeds. Maybe one will take off.
What do you think?