Spring brings Mother Nature’s spectacular show following the drab of winter and here in my humble garden in Charleston it also brings a bumper crop of weeds. Today is an idyllic day: sunshine, light breeze, low humidity and I am home. It is Spring Break here in the lowcountry and as always it arrived just in the nick of time. This morning I walked the yard to contemplate all the tasks that needed to be done and determined the front bed seen by neighbors warranted the priority spot. The phlox is blooming along with the lavender. The roses are budding, the lantana is sending up leaves along with the salvia and the hydrangea. The daffodils are fading into the background as the next act prepares to shine. Among them all are the weeds, if not dealt with they will at worst take over and at best detract from the beauty of the plants they lurk about. As I stared down at my starting point my mind drew a connection to writing. Although I would like to think everything I pour out onto a page is brilliant and essential to what I am writing, I have to admit it is rare when I go back and re-read that I don’t have to make significant changes. There are often typos to fix, things to delete or add, weeds among the words. I also realize I could use a professional editor to check punctuation and other grammatical issues, some of the rules have changed since I was trained. I vow to never publish a novel without professional editing. When we take the time to edit the true beauty and weight of our words comes to the forefront. Just like the before and after pictures I have posted here. The weeding gives clarity for enhanced enjoyment by the viewer in the garden and the reader on the page. On a rare occasion I have written a piece that requires little adjustment, three times come to mind, all three involved pieces I wrote to honor loved ones who passed. One was a poem I wrote about my grandfather, I called Papa while I was a senior in high school, It scored an A+, a rarity from my English teacher and my mother framed it. The other two were words I spoke at funerals to honor the two women that inspired them. In all three cases I felt a divine hand composing, I was just the vessel to get them onto the page. If only I had such help when I am working on my novels! So while weeding my garden or my words may not be at the top of the list for how to spend my time, the effort is repaid tenfold when the flowers and the words demonstrate their full potential. Happy weeding!