A Book Full of Garden Dreams
I’ve been immersed in a hefty coffee table book from the library called The Writer’s Garden: how gardens inspired the world’s great authors. As the title suggests, these literary giants found creative fuel in their personal gardens—sanctuaries of beauty, and solitude.
Many of them dreamed of a self-sustaining life, planting sprawling vegetable gardens, fruit trees, and berry bushes alongside beautiful flower beds. Some chose the lifestyle to stretch a modest income and make room for writing. Others used their royalties to create the dream environment they had long imagined. But all of them shared one thing: a deep need for the beauty of a garden. It wasn’t just a backdrop—it was fuel. The natural world grounded them, offered rhythm and renewal, and gave them the energy to focus deeply on their craft.
Their garden visions echoed my own when Larry and I left our narrow semi-detached home in downtown Toronto in 2007, heading toward a rural life in Bear River. Like those writers, I longed for a quieter life, rooted in nature—one where creativity could grow alongside the tomatoes and flowers.
Our First Garden Oasis
Back then our Toronto garden was small, about the size of a modest room, tucked in the backyard and ringed with tall, gangly trees that cast shifting shadows on everything below—especially on the few brave vegetables I attempted to grow. Still, it was our precious little oasis. Private, lush, and alive. In the warm months, it became an outdoor room where we ate most of our evening meals. I painted out there too.
The Reality of Garden Work
But back to the book. What struck me most was that like us, some of these writers hadn’t anticipated the work involved in homestead farming—or even maintaining a small home garden. Some said that gardening pulled them away from their writing.
Reading that made me smile and feel so much better about my own efforts. I often feel that same tug-of-war between my garden, my studio, and daily life with the endless rhythm of meal prep. And yet, I enjoy my garden time as much as painting. Theoretically, I now have the time to develop my ideas for painting, writing, and gardening—but I don’t have the same stamina I had at 47. I confess that at 74, I still haven’t quite mastered how to schedule my time effectively.
Still Creating, Still Growing
But I keep trying. I enjoy everything I work on whether it’s with a brush or a shovel, and that’s a very good thing.
But it feels even better to read that I’m in good company. Many creatives—past and present—have wrestled with the same balancing act. It’s oddly comforting to know that the struggle to manage time and energy and tasks is part of the human condition.
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A Helpful Habit
One thing that has truly helped me maintain my strength and stamina for this life is attending yoga two mornings a week here in Bear River. But more on that in another post.
