by Sarah Stewart Taylor

Sarah Stewart Taylor, friend of the tarts and author of the Sweeney St. George mystery series, will be helping us out with a guest blog now and then while Elaine recovers.

I got my first “bad” review a couple of weeks before my first book came out. Surfing the Internet, I found reference to a Publishers Weekly review, then discovered that I’d have to pay a couple hundred dollars to read it on line. Instead, I headed up to the Dartmouth College library and found a copy of the magazine. I raced to the mystery reviews and . . . completely freaked out.

Now, with four books’ worth of experience under my belt, it seems kind of ridiculous. For one thing, the review wasn’t that bad. It was actually a fairly positive PW wrap-up with one somewhat negative line. But what did I know? It was my first review. That line struck me like a punch to the gut. I stood in the middle of the Dartmouth library, clutching PW and crying. I don’t what the co-eds working around me thought about my show of emotion. Maybe they pegged me as a publishing executive really, really worried about third quarter profits.

I was in bad shape. So on the way home I stopped by the garden store and splurged on plants. Perennials and annuals. Delphiniums, Shasta Daisies, Sweet William, Foxglove. Cosmos, Zinnias, Cleome. I filled the car. When my husband got home that night, he found me in the garden, surrounded by empty plastic pots, my hands caked with earth.

“Oh shit,” he said. “What happened?”

I love gardening. I love the planning, the seed and perennial catalogs that arrive in the dead of a Vermont winter, promising spring. I love it when the snow melts and I can get out there and see what’s what. I love seeing the first little spots of color: the red tops of tulips, the green shoots of Iris and Day lily. I love checking the fat buds of the peonies, trying to figure out when they’re going to burst into glorious bloom. I use gardening as an antidote to stress or bad news, and I find myself reaching for the spade when things aren’t going well on the page.

A few years ago, I began starting seeds inside, to get a head start on our short Northern growing season, and I became aware that I had added a huge amount of pleasure to my day. Each morning I would check to see which seeds had germinated, which had grown. It made me ridiculously happy.

I love writing too (and the other part of my “real” job, teaching) and I feel grateful every day that I’ve been able to write for publication. I feel intense satisfaction when I finish a book or see it printed for the first time. I love it when I hear from fans who couldn’t put down my last book and can’t wait for the next one. And I feel a rush of pleasure when I get a good review from a reviewer I respect. I feel a sense of exhilaration at the creative process, the way words seem to come out of nowhere sometimes.

But -- and it's hard to admit this -- I’m not sure it makes me simply happy. It’s much too complicated for that, as most good things in life are. Gardening, though . . . gardening is pure, unadulterated connection with something magical.

I never understood this phenomenon. If being a published writer, to write good books and have people read them, was the thing I wanted – and still want -- most in the world, why didn’t the realization of that dream make me, well, happy? Then, a few years ago, I read an article about the psychology of happiness. It’s an awful cliché, but a truism that it’s the little things that count. It turns out that people aren’t made happy by big important jobs or money or critical success. They’re made truly happy by climbing mountains and seeing amazing views, by mowing the lawn, by watching a toddler try to blow a bubble. I suspect my love of the garden has something to do with the fleeting nature of beauty there. Knowing that the blossom I’ve been waiting for has only two or three days of life forces me into the moment, forces me to stay there.

So when things go wrong, you know where to find me. And what about you all? What are the things in your life that make you purely, simply happy?

Comments

[Lynn]

Blowing Bubbles. Just taking a bubble wand and seeing how many bubbles will come out is fun and relaxing. I always take a small wedding size bottle of bubbles with me when I go to any theme park. I can stand in line for rides and entertain myself and any kids around me by blowing bubbles. The parents usually say thanks for the kids not whining and crying while in line. I just love bubbles.

[ramona]

Sarah, if my aching hamstrings are any evidence, I'm with you with the gardening love. Although I'm starting to believe there is some government plan involving hostas overriding the earth.

For pure, simple happiness, I want the beach. A chair. An umbrella. A book. A cold drink. Bliss.

[Nancy Martin]

I love gardening, too, Sarah! It's satisfying in the same kinda way that writing was when I used a typewriter. Seeing that stack of pages slowly grow on the desk was a bit like seeing the first crocus pop up, then the daffodils, the tulips and then the whole garden starts to bloom. What a reward.

My peonies are on the brink of busting open. Oh, the anticipation!

[j renee stuart]

Amen on the gardening, Sarah. I've spent the last couple of weeks playing with the brush hog (a cross between a lawn mower and a tank) and the rototiller. Every day I check my little seedlings and decide which of the "babies" are big enough to go outside. Then it's time to play in the dirt. On my hands and knees - singing to my garden. Yes, I really do sing to her. That's one of the nice things about having no neighbors. No one around to hear me except the plants and the critters, and hopefully, my voice scares away the groundhogs.

[Sarah Stewart Taylor]

I love the typewritten pages comparison Nancy. Maybe we should all start printing pages every day to get that rush of satisfaction . . .

[Kathy Reschini Sweeney]

Mother's Day is the unofficial start of real planting season here, so the potting soil and the mulch were in great evidence this weekend.

Ramona - so true! What is with these mutant hostas? My kids think it's part of an international plot to take over America. ("Notice how they smother out all the other plants, Mom. Coincidence? I think not.")

Remember the Charles Schultz book - "Happiness is...a warm puppy" ?

My greatest happiness comes from laughing with my kids. In the past, it was me making them laugh, with goofy songs and funny faces. Now, I am greatly blessed to have kids witty and quick enough to make me laugh, just with a wisecrack.

Otherwise, chocolate souffle and a glass of champagne. Ahhhhh.

[j renee stuart]

p.s. Ramona - I think you're right about the hostas. We have something we call the 'weed-from-hell'. It's a yearly battle for world domination. This year I bought something called Total Vegetation Killer which is, I suspect, nothing less than nicely packaged Agent Orange. I accidentally got some on one of the hostas - and the damn thing is thriving. By the way, so is the weed-from-hell. My next step involves either a napalm strike, or a flame thrower.

[michele martinez]

Great blog, Sarah. And you're so right. I always think the key to happiness is work, work, work but it's not. It's hanging out with my kids. I also love cooking and baking, especially baking things that the kids think are fun. I did a Pirates of the Caribbean cake for Jack's birthday. Now that made me happy.

On gardening -- for the first time in my life, I have a back yard. Not only have I never gardened, I've never even had house plants. I'm nervous. I planted some pansies and they seem to be doing OK. Now I'd love to plant some basil and mint to cook with. Should I just buy this in pots or will it grow if I actually put it in the ground?

[michele martinez]

PS -- The Lipstick Chronicles makes me happy, which is to say that being part of this community makes me happy.

[j renee stuart]

Michele, basil and mint will do fine just about anywhere, but they do tend to take over (back to that whole 'world domination' thing again). What I do is keep them contained in big clay pots. During the growing season, I bury the pots in the garden, then, come fall, I bring them back inside.

[ramona]

About the hostas, mine came from Nancy. If they consume the earth, blame her.

[Harley]

I don't garden, and I worry that this makes me a shallow person, but it could simply be that I'm still mad at Grandma for making me weed the whole front lawn and de-dandelion it in my youth. Oh--and I had to weed the tulip bed too. Yeah, I know. Shocking mistreatment.

I love to nap.

And to watch my kids. All three on bikes yesterday, one with training wheels, one without, and one, wobbly, just on the cusp of finding, forever, balance.

[Nancy Martin]

Harley, I think you just described the perfect Mother's Day.

Ramona, those hostas have been divided and divided and given to so many people over the years that I might actually have to take the blame for the world domination thing.

[Kerry, the Martial Tart]

Hi, everyone! Pure happiness for me over the last week was standing in beautiful surroundings (I was touring the trifecta of the Grand Canyon, Zion, and Bryce Canyon national parks) and breathing beautiful air. Except when it's grossly hot and humid, being outside in the fresh air someplace away from strip malls, suburbs, and traffic does the trick for me. I think that's one reason I've gotten so hooked on horseback riding -- it's the best way I've found to keep myself at least somewhat connected to nature.

I like messing in my "garden", too. It's a truly tiny (maybe 4' x 3') patch of ground outside the front door of my equally tiny townhouse, some of it permanently occupied by a couple of hideous holly bushes. I get extra mileage by potting stuff to keep on the stoop. Later in the summer the whole area will be taken over by my lantana (which I love for its wildness), but I'll be putting in lots of new herbs and as many pots of tomatoes as I can manage. I think I may try to grow some chiles, too. If anyone can recommend some good varieties, I'd love to hear it.

Speaking of growing things, if y'all like Barbara Kingsolver, you might want to check out her new book, "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." It's a chronicle of the year she and her family vowed to eat only food whose provenance was known and that was grown/raised with a minimum of impact on the earth. Cool stuff.

[sarahS]

I suck at gardening, though this is not entirely my fault. I have been cursed with the ultra invasive Bishop's Weed (goutweed) and it is overtaking even my hostas.

Evil Round up doesn't work. Nor does black plastic. The only solution, according to my friend who used to run a farm stand, is to dig up the entire lawn. However, should one rhizome of Bishop's weed remain on my shovel.....

Anyone know what to do?

[Josh]

Nothing makes me happier than a hug from my wife when I come in the door from a long drive home after a 10-1/2 hour day at work. The tension just melts away.

And, having a child cede dominion over one of the computers or the nice TV without WWIII, those are comforting moments, too.

[bea]

I am a recent convert to the joys of gardening. We had a vegetable garden for a few years, and I dutifully watered and fertilized and weeded. But it was a job, a duty. So when I began to make minor landscaping changes, I didn't anticipate how satisfied I would feel when things grew where I expected them to. And I also got a rush this year from planting seeds indoor in little mini-greenhouses. I couldn't bring myself to thin them, though, which has resulted in poor survival for all the little seedlings. I learned my lesson--sometimes you have to be ruthless.

And here are two simple things that make me happy: 1) My dog greeting me at the door, using every communication skill he has to let me know how happy he is that I am home with him, which, he is certain, is where I belong; 2) Coffee. No matter what, no matter where, the first taste of coffee in the morning is a simple pleasure.

[Joyce Tremel]

Bea, I'm with you on the coffee!

My husband does most of the hard gardening work (he just put in an omni-stone path), although I do pull weeds and plant flowers and such.

I just like hanging out with the family. My older son is actually home for a change this summer, so it's really cool having everyone there. Hectic, but I love it.

Great post, Sarah!

[hollygee]

I overheard my librarian and a library patron talking about using straight vinegar on invasive plants. It certainly would be cheaper than Round Up and environmentally safer.

Sarah, your comment reminded me of passage from some book -- the book itself escapes me -- about an English vicar caught out in the yard 'wrestling with the bishop'. I think it might have been a D.E. Stevenson.

My morning latte with a cat on my lap, in low light, listening to the dawn chorus. Satisfaction.

[Sarah Stewart Taylor]

Re: Hostas, we have a terrible knotweed problem and the advice we got is that the only way to really get rid of it is to chop it down with a machete, pour lighter fluid all over it, light it on fire, let the fire burn out, dig upw hat's left, then cover it with black plastic for three years!!! Kind of sounds like a great Lee Child novel, huh?

[Rita Scott]

I miss my gardens, but physically can't do it anymore. Lucky for me, the neighbors here are good gardeners and I can enjoy seeing theirs.
Now, cooking, baking or sewing something that makes someone else happy, makes me happy.
A friend taking a road trip this weekend will be taking my chicken salad, home made bread and cookies (and Rice Crispie squares, to bring back childhood memories)

[PJ Parrish]

"But -- and it's hard to admit this -- I’m not sure [writing] makes me simply happy."

Sarah,
Thanks for having the courage to admit this. I feel the same way but it is hard to say this out loud without sounding ungrateful and petulent. I know there are people who would kill to write for a living. There are people for whom the writing process is a joyful, bountiful experience. I am not one of them. Writing does not really make me "simply" happy. At least not in the way gardening did (now I live in a condo). I don't need a shrink to tell me why. It's because writing forces me to take chances, expose myself. And most terrifying, writing forces me to rely only on whatever is inside my heart and brain. And what if that is empty?

If you fail at gardening, a plant dies. If you fail at your writing, a little piece of yourself dies.

But...every so often when I am writing, I find this groove and the world falls away. I love the power of telling stories. It is a drug. So maybe I write to get high. More likely, I write to assure myself there is so much inside that I have to give some of it away.

p.s. Screw PW! My first mystery was savaged by Kirkus. (the review is still on Amazon for all to see). It upset me terribly but then it made me mad. And then it made me write a better book the next time.

[Sarah Stewart Taylor]

Thanks PJ -- Yeah, writing makes me joyful and angry and ecstatic and depressed,but not simply happy (I guess I'm defining "happy" as a fairly uncomplicated and static state of being). It's kind of like people. . .

I know all about that groove. Isn't that just the best? I was saying something recently about how writing is the closest I get to a spiritual practice.

[SusanS]

I didn't know I loved gardening until I had a house with a yard large enough to grow things. I didn't know I loved writing until I got sucked into the creative process. I didn't know I loved kids until I had a couple of my own. There's a lot of things I love that came as a complete surprise.

However, I was born knowing that pure happiness is found from the back of a horse.

[Rebecca the Bookseller]

I have allergies, and I am also a survivor, like Harley, of the "deadhead the petunias" and "weed the flower bed" and "trim the hedges" until your head is pounding and your eyes are swollen shut.

So I love seeing the beautiful flowers bloom, and I am VERY happy that I don't have to weed around them.

Thanks for a great blog, Sarah!