I don’t know what to write about

I don’t know what to write about.

I’ve sat down to write my column several times this week and have wandered outside instead. But the deadline looms, so write I must.

Some of the things I’ve considered spending time and column inches on feel too big:

• How it feels, as a Jewish person who has experienced lifelong anti-Semitism but moved back to Maine anyway, to now see human rights violated in the name of protecting Jewish people.

• The fear I hold as the parent of a girl that she may grow up in a country that seems to only value her as a future baby incubator.

• The rhetoric, recently employed by the Maine DOT as well as the federal government, that those who don’t display sufficient gratitude and fealty aren’t deserving of public funds and services.

• How proud I am to be in Maine at this time, and how nervous I am for the future.

And some of the ideas I’ve had feel too small:

• How, as long as seeds continue to germinate, I can stay hopeful.

• The social lives of blue jays.

• The partnership needs of pear and apple trees

• Snails (I just think they’re cool).

So, unsettled as I am on the direction my column should take, I leave my desk and wander.

I take a looping route around the house, stopping to visit each part of my yard in turn. Immediately out my office door is a new mulched patch. The chocolate mint I transplanted there is well on its way to taking over, and the surviving beach plum has buds on its thin branches.

Lemon balm is poking its way up, and I think the first calendula seedling has emerged. From there, I say hello to the blueberry bushes, planning which branches I’ll prune.

The greenhouse is next. Pen and I cleaned it over spring break, and the first of my brassicas are poking up from their seed trays.

(In the interest of full disclosure, I just wandered off to play the bass for a while.)

Something in my aimless meandering seems to have had a positive effect, because it seems I’ve written…

From the greenhouse I say hello to the hellebore, blooming in satisfying white and deep maroon clusters on the side of the patio. Then it’s on to the first of my fenced-in vegetable gardens.

I planted radishes, arugula, and peas and I’m eagerly awaiting their appearance. I also spent a blissfully stinky, muddy hour and a half back there recently (when I was supposed to be writing) weeding the dandelions that weren’t smothered by the seaweed mulch I laid on in November. The garlic and rhubarb are well on their way.

Around to the herb garden, which probably needs a little quicklime applied since it was covered with moss, which I recently learned means that the soil is overly acidic.

The sage plant and chives are looking healthy, though. The tulips and raspberries I planted on the side of the house are alive, and the perennials in the front garden are in need of a clean-up but seem to have survived the winter.

The second fenced-in vegetable patch has my spring-dug parsnips, which is an aspirational term since I haven’t actually dug them up. It needs to be weeded, and my anti-vole system probably needs to be shored up. Last year I felt pretty good about it, but then my lettuces started vanishing, so it’s possible that the cute little buggers are just climbing over the fence.

The owl in the yard, whose booming hoots seem to come from everywhere at once, is doing a fine job with population control, so maybe my lettuce will be safe this year.

And then, having completed my circuit, I head back to my office. The tomato and pepper seedlings under my grow lights seem fine and strong. I need to pot them up, and that’s a good incentive to finish my column so I can get some dirt back under my fingernails.

Something in my aimless meandering seems to have had a positive effect, because it seems I’ve written the unwriteable column. All that big stuff, the things I was avoiding writing about, is still there. The little things are too. And somewhere in the middle is the earth, carrying on, with me just another animal roaming its surface.

When she’s not procrastinating, Courtney Naliboff is teaching at North Haven Community School, raising her daughter, and playing in Bait Bag. She may be contacted at Courtney.Naliboff@gmail.com.