It’s day four of Blogging University. Today’s assignment is two-fold. First we’re asked to identify our ideal audience as a way of honing our blogging skills. Second, we’re to include a new-to-you element on our blog.
Everything but the Kitchen Sink?
I like challenging myself, so I’ve learned how to embed photos, YouTube videos, a contact form and a poll. Today I’m embedding a Tweet for the first time.
You can learn how to embed all kinds of things on your blog via WordPress Support. I also love coaching people, so if there is something you are trying to do and can’t quite figure it out, I’m happy to help.
As spring approaches, nature does most of the heavy lifting. Birds nest, even without my help and perennials come back regardless of my pruning skills. A garden, untended will not necessarily die. Instead the garden crosses the boundaries of the walkways, climbs the fence, winds around a tree and meanders down the block like an untended toddler.
I’m having none of that. Just because Mother Nature is a well-worn cliché, doesn’t mean the parallels aren’t true. As a mom of two boys, I set limits early and often. Within those limits, the boys enjoyed free rein. They could explore the garden, create in their sand box and run through the sprinklers (pre-drought). My youngest son loved climbing the orange tree and played for hours in the dirt. As a toddler, my oldest son licked the shiny bottom of a snail, always exploring and curious. To my chagrin, he continuously snapped green cherry tomatoes from the vine before he understood the difference between red and green. We traveled for a week and when we returned, he was able to see the difference and why they should remain on the vine awhile longer.
Now teenagers, they’ve grown into well-mannered and respectful young men who understand limits but continue to soar.
Those same limits fall to the garden. Well-tended branches make for happier neighbors. Overgrown weeds do not inspire trust. I might fall in love with a beautiful shrub, but if the plant’s DNA will send it skyward, then it stays on the nursery shelf. I’ve stopped planting Stock, not because I don’t like it, but because the snails eat it to the quick. Reluctantly, but with a sure hand, I’m learning to garden like the Californian I’ve become instead of longing for the English-bred garden of my roots. Some days that’s still hard, but I know it’s for the best. There are days I mother my children, days I mother the garden and days I mother myself. All three are a work in progress.
If you reached the end of this post and find it resonated with you, then you’ve come to the right place. Welcome! If you’re yawning or distracted or perhaps you simply clicked the ‘like’ button in the Reader, I completely understand. It just means this particular blog isn’t for you. When you do find that perfect fit, you’ll know. As my friend Pauline says, “Thanks for coming by today. I love that you did.”