Our long break is over. I’m filled with shame for slacking off, but I’m so happy to be writing again (not to mention gratefully amazed that people are still coming by here!)

Through December, I was just too busy to write. Then, in January, I was spending time on some public health and community issues that didn’t really use up much of my day, but that did ever-so-slightly curdle my typing. Reading submissions that made me cross, coming up with solutions and arguments and wincing every time yet another yellow envelope popped up on my phone soured my mood so that when I did have some writing time to myself. . .  I suddenly had nothing to say!

Life has still been good, it’s just that reporting on it has felt, well, kind of silly.

Who cares about my tomato chutney, Kin’s pottery wheel and Maddy and Fu’s détente? Is my crop of summer vegetables and the beetle on our fence really relevant to anyone? The internet is full of information. Why add my contribution when, really, I’ve just been doing nothing? I haven’t even been able to scrape together enough material to write letters to my friends!

So, since this “nothing” is what I’ve continued to do, why are we back today?

Because I’ve finished with submissions for now. I am instead wallowing in gardening magazines, recipes and Jackie French books and have almost caught up with all of my favourite blogs. In short, I’m immersed in material that inspires excitement and enthusiasm, rather than irritation and tedium. And do you know what?

It’s lots and lots of “nothings” very similar to mine. And I love it!

Pearl and Elspeth’s plans for another strawbale project are really exciting. Nana Chel’s summer garden is lovely to see and I genuinely couldn’t be more pleased about Katie and Reuben’s spare-room clearout. In the right frame of mind, “nothing” can be sweet. And it has completely overpowered any sourness I still had.


I love nothing! I can’t believe I forgot that! The big stuff is important, it’s true; trips and events, people met, goals achieved. . . all of that does matter. But it’s the little rhythms of our everyday nothings that make those big things possible, and that also keep our lives satisfying, happy and full. And, since I’m so eager to read about other people’s sweet nothings, then maybe, just maybe, it’s worth writing about my own!

Nothing is important. Nothing matters. And isn’t that great?

Wishing you nothing but the best (and the best of nothing),