Thoughts on blogging, gardening, travel and the state of things (not necessarily in that order)

My blog posts tend to be photo-driven. Plants, gardens, nurseries, horticultural events. I cover them all—and with a lot of photos. My plant passion and the desire to share that enthusiasm runs deep. That's why I'm here, perhaps why you're here too?

Sometimes though, I need to write more. To set down on "paper" what's on my mind, often related to the topics in the title; blogging, gardening, travel and the state of things. Adding The Bit at the End to my posts has helped, it's been an outlet for some of those thoughts. I've also got a running Word document for that. It's not a journal, but I suppose it acts like one, at least a little. Sometimes the words I spill there make it into one of my photo-heavy posts, but mostly not. Just the act of writing them is all I need to do. Sharing them with the world not needed. Usually.

As I wrote when I introduced the idea for The Bit at the End, I miss the connection to the larger gardening community, bonds that were broken when so many folks (understandably) left Facebook and Instagram—when those platforms revealed what they were really about, which wasn't connecting us. Instead they drove the wedge in, further dividing us. 

During our very long drive home from Southern California we listened to podcasts. We have a rule in our family, the person driving gets to decide what we listen to, that's how I ended up spending miles and miles and miles listening to a couple of tech bros interviewing (fawning over) Elon Musk. I am so rooted in my gardening-life bubble that to listen to the two hour (I think that's what it was?) babble of AI wonder and praise of Mr. Musk's "genius" was like a speed dating education in a completely foreign way of being in the world. I watched the natural world go by out the window, while I listened to people who had probably never grown a plant get giddy about the size of chips, and data centers and robots. It was nauseating. 

Maybe that's why when I was finally home, online, and ready to review my blog post scheduled to go live the next morning... but *BAM* instead was met with a bright white screen telling me that my current browser could not run Blogger (the platform I use for blogging, and the same browser I've used for some 10 or so years)—and thus denying me access to my blog—I wasn't surprised. I mean why should my little bit of the digital world be allowed to go on when it's no longer of service to the greater AI gods? They've scraped my content already, I'm of no further use. 

Yes I'm being a little dramatic, but when "masked, militarized government agents are sent to politically noncompliant areas to roam the streets, terrorize civilians, and deploy violence with impunity" (quoting Pete Buttigieg) why should I care if my little gardening blog continues to function? Or think it matters? (and where the heck are the members of Congress, those who have the power to put a stop to this insanity?)

I went to sleep that night and when I got up the next morning things were working again, here on the blog. I was glad. Over the last (almost) 17 years this blog has become a huge part of who I am, of what I do. Without my blog as a creative outlet how would I define myself?

While Andrew and I were walking through the Santa Cruz Arboretum we talked about how there are people who need to experience things with another person, to share the moment, for the moment to matter. I said that I didn't necessarily need that. I like to walk gardens on my own. He pointed out that while I was enjoying a garden on my own, I was also photographing with the purpose of sharing the experience with my blog readers, not just enjoying the moment for myself. Yes, the man did have a point.

I have a friend who occasionally referred to my work on here the blog (and on Instagram), as "just sharing pretty pictures." It was said in jest, but frequently enough that I started to wonder if maybe there was a little subtext to that statement. 

Just pretty pictures. Is that all there is? No.

In my years of blogging I've shared countless photos of my garden, other people's gardens, public gardens, plants and nurseries. Many of them have been pretty, but many of them have not—as we all know, gardening is not always pretty.

My work as danger garden has always been—first and foremost—to document, to tell stories. In the process I hope to inspire, and to help build community. I may even educate a bit, but I am only an expert on one thing, my garden. I have not ever claimed to be an expert on anything other than that. 

I am not trained in any field relating to horticulture, I'm an interior design school drop-out who discovered plants and gardening as a way to explore my love of nature, creativity and design. Through my social media plantforms (ha! I really did just type that, accidently), through my social media platforms I've met so many people working in horticulture, and more often than not I've been accepted as one of them, something I appreciate greatly. 

I love being surrounded by plant people and have always tried to use social media for good. However, since I am not affiliated with any organization, I don’t have to care if what I say may offend. Am I afraid to say anything? No. Am I holding back? Well, only in that I do subscribe to the idea that if you can't say something nice, well, maybe it's better to not say anything at all. I think that comes through in what you don't see. I don't take photos of things I don't like. The gardens I profile, you may not always recognize them in real life. Why would I want to take photos and share them if the subject was something I find unappealing? What point does it serve for me to visit a private garden and talk about what I don't like? (more on that in another post, on another day)

And what's wrong with pretty pictures anyway? 

I recently registered to attend the Buffalo Garden Fling, which will take place this July—this will be my tenth Fling. The first was Seattle in 2011, since then I've "flung" in San Francisco, Portland (okay that one was a lot of work!), Toronto, the Capital Region, Austin, Denver, the Philly area, and Puget Sound. I look forward to learning what gardeners in Buffalo, NY, are up to. Garden travel is great fun, as well as being educational and with the Fling, very social. People and plants... people growing plants, people appreciating plants. It's a good thing, it might just be the only thing giving me hope these days.

Oh and guess what, I just wrote a long post without a single pretty photo. Don't worry, I won't make a habit of it.

The Bit at the End
With a nod to my mention of tech bros I thought I'd share a story from the BBC about a surprise gaming hit, Grow a Garden. From the story: "If people discover they love virtual gardening, might they be encouraged to take up the real thing? Andrew K. Przybylski, a professor of human behaviour and technology at the University of Oxford, said it was possible the game could "plant a seed" that could lead to a passion for plants. But, overall, he's sceptical. "It is unlikely that a game like this will encourage real world gardening any more than Super Mario Wonder encourages plumbing," he told the BBC."

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